


Spoiled for Choice

by Alexa_Snow, JaneDavitt



Series: Turn Up the Heat [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-19 21:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 80,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexa_Snow/pseuds/Alexa_Snow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt
Summary: This is Dex's story. It holds choices to be made on a personal and career level, steamy threesomes and twosomes, a vet with a soft spot for lame dogs, human and animal, and a glimpse at Rory and Shannon's happy ever after.





	Spoiled for Choice

**Author's Note:**

> To Jackie, who works long hours at an emergency vet clinic and helped us get the details correct.

Chapter One

“Door’s open!” Dex called as he heard the frantic scrabble of Tank’s nails on the hardwood. He was up to his elbows in soapy dishwater and hated to stop in the middle of a project, even one as simple as doing the dishes.

The creak of the screen door was accompanied by increased excited dog sounds and followed by softer human footsteps. An arm slipped around Dex’s waist from behind; he felt the quick press of lips at the back of his neck.

“I didn’t need you to tell me the door was open,” Elliot said, his voice low and affectionate.

“Wasn’t sure it was you,” Dex told him.

“So you let anyone into your house now? Complete strangers?”

“And their dogs,” Dex agreed. He put the last clean pot in the dish drainer and let the water out of the sink, shaking his hands off then drying them on his jeans before turning around.

“You might end up regretting that if Tank decided he didn’t like the look of them.”

Grinning, Dex grabbed himself a handful of Elliot’s T-shirt and towed him closer for a kiss. “That’s why I wouldn’t regret it. One growl and whoever it was would be out of here like a shot. Not that Tank’s ever met anyone he didn’t like.”

It was true, and one of the biggest reasons Dex, Luis and their former housemate Shannon had kept Tank after the big dog had shown up on their front porch in the middle of a storm.

“He’s friendly,” Elliot agreed. “Want me to dry those?”

Dex shrugged. He’d planned on leaving them to drain and air-dry while he swept the floor, but why not take advantage of the offer? With two of them in the house now, not three, the chores mounted up. Damn Shannon, running off to have a happy-ever-after and leaving him to play Cinderella. And, yeah, Shannon and Rory’s new place had toilets to scrub and surfaces to wipe too, but that wasn’t the point.

Okay, maybe he missed the asshole more than a little. Time to call and make plans for a movie night or a few rounds at a bar. Double date, if Elliot was up for it, triple if Luis had someone to bring. Though Luis was going through a dry spell, recently, coming home alone most nights. Dex didn’t miss finding the bathroom smelling of heavy perfume first thing in the morning or bumping into a sleepy-eyed woman, breasts jiggling under a borrowed shirt, or a guy with a sated, well-fucked grin, but he wanted Luis to be getting some. Sex kept a guy mellow.

He tossed Elliot a dishtowel. “If you want to. You know where everything goes by now and if you’re not sure, leave it on the counter. Luis freaks if he can’t find something.”

“He does?” Elliot paused, plate in one hand, dishtowel in the other. “He seems pretty laid-back to me.”

“You haven’t seen him when he can’t find the pizza cutter.” Dex mimed ripping off his T-shirt. “He goes full-on Hulk. Punches holes in the walls.”

“Nah. Not buying it.” Elliot flicked Dex’s ass with the towel. “You’re a terrible liar. No poker face at all.”

“We are not roughhousing,” Dex said firmly. “Remember what happened last time?” The dogs, overhearing their scuffling, had come running to join in the fun, and in the confusion Bailey had gotten stepped on. She’d yelped loudly enough to wake the dead and they’d rushed her to the emergency vet for X-rays only to get a bruised paw diagnosis and a hefty bill for their trouble.

Elliot looked chastened. “Yeah, we don’t want a repeat.”

“I’m getting out of the habit of wearing my boots in the house.” He wiggled a bare foot as proof. He’d felt so guilty about stepping on Bailey—though neither of them was sure who had done it—that he’d made an effort to change. Luis didn't like shoes in the house anyway. Made sense when Dex's boots were often thick with construction dust.

“We don’t know it was you. It could have been me.” Elliot picked up the topmost balanced pot on the dish drainer. “Anyway, we said we weren’t going to have this conversation again.”

“True.”

Dex eyed Elliot, desire rising within him, sparked by the kiss, brief though it’d been. Elliot hadn’t dropped by to chat or do chores, so why pretend he had? Their relationship was based on instant attraction and a growing friendship, but what held it together was the sex.

For now, for him, it was enough. Hell, it was plenty. Elliot was a considerate lover, not averse to kissing or hugs, but as unsentimental about their arrangement as Dex. Seeing him naked, even imagining him stripped down to spare muscles and lean limbs, had Dex’s motor running hot. Bent over, glancing back with a grin, waiting for Dex to spread that hungry hole of his with cock or fingers, Elliot was sexy as fuck.

Picking up on Dex’s mood, Elliot tossed the towel aside and set the pot, water beading its sides, on the counter with a clatter. “So no talking?” he suggested, moving closer, then palming Dex’s erection with a hand that knew where to press, how to caress. “Upstairs? Or how about I blow you here? I was thinking about that on the walk over. I’m fairly sure I drooled at one point.”

“Shit,” Dex muttered. “You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

“Everyone else we know would say that shoe’s on the other foot.” Elliot squeezed his cock harder.

“I’m not wearing any—Jesus, El. Shoes.” There was an insistent whine to his left and Dex opened his eyes to see Bailey watching them. “Your dog’s being creepy.”

“Yeah. I warned you months ago she’s a voyeur.”

“Well, it bugs me.” He also wasn’t keen on the idea of Luis walking in on them. Again. “Let’s put them in the backyard and go upstairs.”

“Okay,” Elliot agreed. “Luis still hasn’t let up on you after last time, hm?”

“He’s having a little too much fun with it. I think he’s bored. He needs to hook up with someone for a long weekend or something distracting.” Dex whistled. “Come on, Tank! Bailey! Let’s go.” The dogs thundered past him and out the door into the yard.

Seeing them run, jumping into the air when he tossed a tattered tennis ball for them to chase, made him grin. Simple lives they had. Not that he envied them. Tank had nothing to do but eat, sleep, and play, but one important activity was off the menu and Dex wasn’t prepared to give up sex for anyone or anything.

Once in the bedroom, Elliot’s eagerness spilled over into urgency, taking Dex with it. Locked together, they kissed, hard, quick kisses, tongues flickering without going deep, hands busy. Undressing completely seemed pointless, but the spring day was warm, the bedroom stifling with the windows closed, and in the end, they broke apart long enough to peel off what little they wore.

Silent, lost in need, Elliot’s expression was one of pure concentration, as if reaching a climax was an equation to solve in a short space of time. Dex leaned against the wall, shivering at the cool press against his shoulders, and watched a kneeling Elliot part his lips.

It was good. Good to be taken inside a welcoming mouth, with the tug of suction and the swirl of a wet tongue setting off tiny bursts of pleasure. Good to glimpse the head of Elliot’s cock, red and glossy, poking through Elliot’s hand as he jacked himself with increasingly erratic strokes.

So why was he frowning, conscious of something missing?

Ridiculous to feel guilt for not being more attached to Elliot than he was. They'd talked a couple of times and agreed this was a situation of friends with benefits. Neither of them wanted more; they were happy the way things were.

Maybe it was that Dex genuinely liked Elliot, and a hell of a lot more than he’d liked most of his casual partners. Their time together was fun even when they weren’t having sex. He could imagine Elliot meeting the right guy and settling down the way Shannon and Rory had without a pang. It felt selfish getting in the way of that, though Elliot wasn't looking for commitment.

But it was a waste of energy worrying about guilt and selfishness now, with his dick in Elliot’s mouth and his fingers tangled in Elliot’s hair. Warm with affection and arousal, at the same moment Elliot glanced up at him, he glanced down. Elliot took Dex deep and groaned loudly, coming, the splash of his release warm against Dex’s shin. Dex shivered at the vibration around his cock and the way Elliot’s gaze was locked on his. He was so close.

He needed...needed… Elliot dug his teeth in gently, ringing the head of Dex’s cock as he lapped hard. That would do it. Dex came with a heartfelt groan of delight, spunk flooding out, enough that Elliot had difficulty swallowing it. A trickle of creamy fluid ran from the corner of his mouth and Dex reached down to wipe it away, embarrassed without knowing why, Jesus, it wasn’t as if Elliot would mind if Dex had come on his face not in his mouth. Or would he? Elliot had a fastidious side to him. Once the heat between them died down, he’d probably head for the bathroom and rinse his mouth, emerging smelling of mouthwash.

And yeah, after rising and giving Dex a quick hug, there he went. Dex watched him leave the room, admiring his tight ass, though he liked more meat on his men usually. A bit of a jiggle. He worked out and his abs and ass were firm enough to bounce a quarter, but he didn’t demand that in a partner the way some of the guys at the gym did.

He wiped his cock dry with his T-shirt and tossed it onto the pile of laundry in the corner. Laundry was after sweeping the floor on his to-do list.

He toyed with the idea of hiring a cleaner, but he didn’t make enough in construction to waste on taking the lazy option. Plus if his mom found out—and Luis would make damn sure she did—his ass was toast.

“Christ! Dex!”

Not Elliot, but Luis, underscored by the sound of Elliot saying, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were—”

Dex didn’t bother to get dressed. He grabbed a pillow off the bed and held it in front of him as he went out into the hallway. Elliot backed into him while leaving the bathroom, still apologizing.

“I didn’t know he was in there!” Elliot said pointing at Luis through the doorway. Dex stepped around him, grateful the dogs were outside, and confronted Luis, who’d finished fastening his jeans and was flushing the toilet.

“You could lock the door,” he pointed out.

Luis rolled his eyes and turned on the faucet. “I thought you two were busy.”

“I’m sorry,” Elliot said again.

“It’s not a big deal. I was surprised,” Luis told him. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“Oh. Okay. Does that mean you won't give Dex a hard time about it for the next few months?”

“Maybe only a few weeks.” Luis was grinning. “He should take better care of his fuck buddies, not let them wander the halls naked when his housemate’s home.”

“We didn’t know you were.” Dex couldn’t check the time but he was sure Luis was home early.

“Fuck buddy?” Elliot’s voice was higher than usual and he choked on the words as if they were difficult to say. “Is that what you think I am?”

“Well, you fuck and you’re friends, so yeah.” Luis raised an eyebrow. Dex couldn’t do that. Both eyebrows, yes. One at a time? Nope. “Am I wrong about any of that?”

“No, but it’s offensive.” Elliot folded his arms, lower lip jutting out. He’d moved closer to Luis, confronting him boldly, his flushed cheeks from anger, not the sex. “There’s ways of saying stuff that’s okay and ways that make people want to punch you.”

Luis chuckled deep in his throat. “Well, you can always _try_, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” Dex stepped between them again, amazed at their behaviour. Luis was usually politeness itself and Elliot good-tempered and easy going. Guess everyone had a line and Luis had trampled over Elliot’s without meaning to. “Break it up, boys. Luis, get your ass into the kitchen and make a start on supper since you’re back early. Elliot and I will put some clothes on.”

For a moment, Luis hesitated as if he was going to argue, but he nodded and pushed past them, headed for the stairs.

Elliot looked mildly shell-shocked. “He’s not usually like that,” he said softly.

“No. Maybe he had a bad day at work. I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t.” Reaching out, Elliot touched Dex’s arm. “Don’t turn it into a thing, okay? It’s fine. Give me a sec in the bathroom and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Apparently it was a night when everyone wanted to argue, because Dex had to stuff down the urge to insist Elliot stay for dinner. “Sure. I’m gonna go let the dogs in.” He’d give Elliot a few minutes to chill before suggesting he stay. If he wanted to.

Glancing down, he realized he still held the pillow, though protecting his modesty had been forgotten after the first few moments. Not that he had many body issues after hours in the gym changing room. Somehow, though, it seemed wrong to be naked around Luis when he was fresh from sex. Kind of rubbing it in.

He dressed quickly and went downstairs at a jog. Sweat prickled on his skin, but a shower could wait. He passed his hand over his scalp. Time to shave it. Or should he let it grow out some more? Elliot wasn’t into the bare look. Not that he got a vote, but...

The dogs frisked around him, then settled in a corner of the kitchen, gnawing on treats. Luis gave them a disapproving look, then went back to chopping peppers in silence, the hunch of his shoulders projecting stay-away vibes.

Like he gave a shit. He went over and stole a piece of pepper, red and juicy. “You gonna be an asshole if he stays for supper?”

“Probably not,” Luis said, not giving Dex as much as an apologetic glance. “Why? Is he?”

“Don’t know.” He reached for another strip of pepper and Luis transferred the knife to his left hand, then smacked Dex’s fingers hard enough to leave a sting. “Leave it or there won’t be enough for the stir fry.”

Dex glanced over at Tank to make sure the dog hadn’t misinterpreted the casual slap for an invitation to roughhouse, but he was already half-asleep, exhausted from whatever trouble he and Bailey had gotten into out in the yard. “What if I want to eat my portion raw?”

“That’d be taking your life into your own hands since the meat’s chicken,” Luis said. “Feel like experimenting with salmonella poisoning?”

“Um, what am I walking into here?” Elliot sounded like his usual self again.

Luis was the one who answered. “Something you should find genuinely terrifying. I’m sorry about before. Dex was right, I should have locked the door.”

“It’s okay. One of those things that happens, I guess. I’m an only child, so there wasn’t a lot of walking in on people when I was growing up, and I live alone now. Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Like the salmonella.” Dex took advantage of Luis’s distraction and stole another piece of pepper.

“The salmonella is not happening,” Luis said, shooting him a look. “Because we’re cooking the chicken and we’re cooking the vegetables and the next person who tries to eat anything before it’s cooked is getting this knife through their hand.”

Dex fanned himself. “Threats of violence are soooo sexy. Way to get me turned on, you nasty boy.”

Luis grinned, relaxing all the way back to normal, in Dex’s view. “Not a threat, but a promise. Elliot, how much spice can you take?”

“Bring it on,” Elliot replied promptly, proving he'd wanted to stick around which was a relief. “I can take it as hot as it gets.”

“Hey!” Dex objected. “I can bench press both of you, but my taste buds are wimps.”

“I’ll split it into two before I add the chilis,” Luis promised. “How about a beer for the chef?”

“Coming up.” Dex grabbed three longnecks from the fridge and gave Elliot a smile. “Want to help me set the table?”

“Sure.”

His chores were half-done, but Dex thrust that nagging worry aside. People came first and he wasn’t leaving these two alone even for long enough to start a washer load. Probably be at each other’s throats again when he came back.

He knew things with Elliot weren’t going to last forever, and he was okay with that.

Didn’t mean he wanted it to end any sooner than it had to.

Chapter Two

“Who’s a good boy? You? Are you a good boy?” Elliot crooned to Tank, who’d rolled over to offer access to his wide chest.

“Easy there or I might get jealous,” Dex said. Unlike Elliot, who was sitting in the grass between the dogs, he was in a chair, legs stretched out in front of him absorbing the heat of the late afternoon sun. It was the third time he'd seen Elliot since the shared stir fry a week before and he wondered what was behind the frequent visits.

“No, you won’t.” Elliot didn’t bother to explain, and Dex was glad. It was the kind of conversation that could have easily turned more serious than either of them wanted. “Oh, but I guess someone else is.” Bailey rolled over toward him. nudging her muzzle into his thigh, begging for attention. “You’re good too. Even if you’re kind of crazy.”

“She’s a lot better than she used to be.”

“Money well spent on all those classes,” Elliot said. “Ew, no, Bailey, no licking. Gross.”

“You don’t say that when I’m the one using my tongue on you,” Dex pointed out.

Elliot grinned at him. “Let’s not compare those two things, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I’m with you there.” Dex tugged at a long piece of grass and snapped it off. “When I was a kid, I could whistle with a blade of grass.”

“Yeah? Never heard of that.”

Dex experimented, pinning the blade between his thumbs and blowing softly. It took a few goes, but eventually he produced a high-pitched whine that had the dogs leaping up, barking excitedly.

“Enough!” Elliot covered his ears, laughing. “That sounds awful.”

Overcome by nostalgia, Dex said, “You try it.” When had he last done that? On a field, when he was maybe fourteen, dusk settling, drinking a beer he’d stolen from the fridge with a kid whose name he’d forgotten. Sweet boy, a math geek, who’d gone from helping Dex with his homework to that shared beer and a dozen kisses. Shy, uncertain brushes of their lips, with Dex overwhelmed with sensations he couldn’t express with words or his body. The kid had moved away a month later, and Dex had crashed and burned on every math test that followed, not that he cared.

“What? You do realize the dogs pee on this grass?”

That was a good point. Dex dropped the blade of grass and resisted the urge to spit. “It rained last night, so the grass is clean and Tank pees in his special spot, don’t you, boy?”

Tank ignored him in favor of licking his butt. Charming. Though again, not an activity Dex minded when it came to sex, giving or getting.

Elliot shook his head. “I know too much about grass.”

Better not to ask for more details, since Dex knew Elliot wouldn’t provide them. When asked about his job, he’d shrug and say it was boring and no one wanted to hear about it. Dex was pretty sure that meant he didn’t want to _talk_ about it, and why press someone to talk about something when they didn’t want to? That led to annoyance and misery. “It’s gonna be hot this week, I guess. Unprecedented heat wave.”

“High nineties by Monday,” Elliot agreed. “So weird for this time of year. I’m not looking forward to it."

He ran his hand over Elliot’s head, the wavy brown strands warm against his fingers. “You’re coming over more than you used to.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. Glad bumping into Luis last week didn’t put you off.”

“Bumping into his bad mood, you mean?” Elliot chuckled, the sound quiet enough to seem private amusement rather than a joke to be shared. “I can handle that. Compared to some of the men I’ve dated, he’s a pussycat.”

“Now you’ve done it.” Tank, recognizing a word Dex and Luis didn’t even spell around him, jumped up, racing over to the fence, yapping high and loud. Bailey followed, wagging her plume of a tail.

“Sorry.” Elliot turned his head and nuzzled Dex’s hand, the gesture turning from playful to erotic in moments as he kissed Dex’s palm, then licked a finger before sucking on it.

Dex shivered, cock stiffening in response as if it, not his finger, was getting the attention. “God, stop it.”

Elliot hummed, using his teeth, tongue lapping away.

Not stopping.

Fine. Dex rose, freeing his finger with a firm tug, and grabbed Elliot by the shoulders, hauling him up. “You’re being naughty. I told you to stop.”

“Yeah?” Elliot sounded breathless, eyes sparkling, rubbing against Dex with restless urgency. “Better do something about it. Teach me a lesson. A good hard fucking should do the trick.”

Sexy little fucker. Dex grinned. “Oh, I plan to, but not out here. Inside.”

“Mm. Take me inside.” Elliot grabbed onto Dex’s ass and pressed against him harder. “Is there water?”

“What?” Dex blinked, confused by the question and distracted by the feel of Elliot’s body.

“For the _dogs_.”

“Oh. Right.” Glancing over at the shaded area near the steps provided an answer. “Yeah, bowl’s still full. Are you sure the gate’s latched?” They’d had an incident a few weeks ago when Elliot hadn’t shut the gate firmly enough and the dogs had gotten out. Bailey and Tank had enjoyed their freedom, running rampant through the neighborhood. Dex and Elliot hadn’t even known they were gone until a woman who lived down the street had called to say Tank and his “girlfriend” had knocked over her trash cans and were making a horrendous mess. It’d cost them an hour cleaning up her driveway and a “sorry our dogs are assholes” fruit bouquet, but it was worth it to smooth things over.

“_Yes_, I’m sure. I double-check every time now.”

Dex was OCD enough to want to see for himself, but the irritation in Elliot’s voice warned him to let it go.

“Then let’s take care of your lesson in no means no.” Seeking to recapture the moment, he bit Elliot’s earlobe, knowing it drove him crazy. “Gonna teach you to listen to me.”

They didn’t play sex games the way he suspected Shannon and Rory did after inadvertently eavesdropping on them before Shannon moved out. Taking a bath, he’d been unable to block out the voices coming from Shannon’s room and eventually, amused and aroused, he’d jerked off in the cooling water, the spice of guilt adding to his pleasure.

Those two got kinky. Dex had shared a bed with two men a few times and handed out a spanking now and then, along with some creative uses for the two ties he owned, but that’d been for fun, nothing more. If he never did it again, he wouldn’t care. What got him out of his mind with lust, he didn’t know. For an activity he loved, he got less out of it than he wanted. Pleasure, yes, an itch scratched, a lingering sense of well-being, but nothing like the ecstatic, bone-melting lust he’d heard through the wall.

“Tell me what you want,” Elliot whispered as soon as they’d gotten upstairs and closed the door. “I’ll do anything, you know that.”

“Yeah? Anything?” Dex knew it wasn’t an everything-goes offer, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t likely to suggest something Elliot would refuse. “Strip and climb up on the bed.”

He watched admiringly as Elliot removed his clothes, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. It was too easy to get distracted at the sight of the bare skin he enjoyed so much, to the point where Elliot was naked and crawling onto the bed before he remembered he needed to strip too. “No, not like that. Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

Elliot paused, considering the request.

“You said anything,” Dex reminded him.

“Yeah.” There was a trace of uncertainty in Elliot’s voice as if the foundation they’d built over the past months was too fragile to bear the weight of trust. It showed in the backward glance he sent over his shoulder, the tension in his hands, not flat on the wall, but curved, fingers bent.

“Am I that scary?” Dex wanted an answer before he undressed. “What do you think I’m gonna do to you anyway? Whip out a knife and carve my initials into you?”

“Nothing.” Elliot shook his head. “Sorry. It’s hard for me to let go sometimes.” He faced the wall, making a clear, deliberate effort to relax.

Kind of defeated the purpose if he had to work that hard to get there.

Dex went to him, still dressed, sympathy and annoyance warring within him. He stroked Elliot’s back the way he would comfort Tank during a storm, gentling his voice. “Hey. Won't hurt you or hit you or anything you don’t want. Forget this. I’ll lie down and you ride me, okay?”

It was one of Elliot’s favorite positions, Dex knew, letting him be in control at the same time as his ass took the pounding he loved. Dex was strong enough even on his back bearing Elliot’s weight to deliver deep, strong strokes, and with Elliot slamming down, they got the job done.

Elliot turned to look at him again. “Are you sure? I don’t want to…” He trailed off, then sighed and sat on the bed, legs curled up half under him in a posture Dex’s less-flexible body would have protested. “I don’t know. I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not.” Dex tried to force himself to feel patience instead of irritation; all he’d wanted was a great orgasm and maybe a half hour of peaceful relaxation before Elliot beat one of his hasty retreats, but apparently that wasn’t to be. He pulled off his shirt and sat, reaching out to encircle Elliot’s ankle with one hand. “It was an idea. I wasn’t attached to it or anything. We can do whatever you’re on board with, or nothing if you’re not feeling it anymore.” It wasn’t Elliot’s fault if his attempt to try something new had been clumsy.

“It’s not that.” Elliot ran light fingertips over Dex’s forearm. “For real, I’m being stupid. Ignore me.”

“Oh okay, get out of here, then.” Dex said it gently, not wanting to risk Elliot misunderstanding and think he was serious. “Can I blow you? How would that be?”

Elliot smiled. “That’d be great.”

No need to get undressed any further then. Elliot lay back, propped up on pillows, and Dex got between his legs, running his hands over Elliot’s thighs. The guy didn’t work out a lot, but he walked miles, usually with his dog, and it showed in the taut muscles.

Dark hair covered Elliot’s balls, silky as an otter’s pelt, a contrast to the wiry hair rising in a cloud around his cock. “Ever shave this?” he asked, tugging on a few strands.

“Doesn’t everyone at some point? Then it grows back and cue the itching.”

“Yeah,” Dex said vaguely, distracted by the musky scent each breath brought. “The itching is hell.”

Leaning over, he tasted the source of the aroma, darting his tongue out in teasing licks, then settling in to drive Elliot crazy. Before long, Elliot was at his mercy, clutching the sheet under him with one hand and Dex’s shoulder with the other. Moans slipped from him, plaintive, imploring, driving Dex to redouble his efforts. He might not want Elliot hog-tied and helpless, but Lordy, did he like him desperate.

“Stop!” Elliot gasped finally, pushing him away. “God. I don’t want to come yet.”

“You could come now and again later?” Dex suggested. He pressed his lips to Elliot’s thigh instead of his cock, though, waiting for a reply.

“I’d rather come when you’re fucking me. Come here.”

Dex slid up cooperatively so their mouths could meet. Elliot hadn’t shaved that morning—he didn’t seem to on weekends—and the rasp of his stubble increased Dex’s arousal. He groaned softly when Elliot pinched his nipple, and again when Elliot reached to undo his jeans.

“Can we do what you suggested before? Me on top?” Elliot kissed him harder, biting at his lower lip, and Dex nodded, feeling the sharp tweak of teeth.

Within five minutes, he was staring up at Elliot, the bed creaking in time with his thrusts, shoving deep inside Elliot’s ass. One benefit to the position was easy access to Elliot’s cock, and he took full advantage of it. Light brushes of his fingers to torment, alternated with a rougher grip, a harder jacking, and Elliot was wild with need, writhing, grinding down, eyes closed, mouth open on groans that bled into each other.

Beautiful. The window was closed, giving them privacy, the curtains drawn, but the sound of a dog barking filtered through to him. Damn mutts. Probably seen a squirrel. At the end of the yard, a stand of trees housed a dozen or so of the small animals, and Tank met their visits with a fervor that never diminished.

Blocking out the noise, he concentrated on not coming, not yet, wanting to see Elliot climax, feel the warm spunk flow over his hand, fall on his skin like soft rain.

“So… close…” Elliot circled his hips and they gasped. He leaned down, bracing one hand on the mattress. It made it harder for Dex to stroke him, more awkward, but this was almost over anyway. He could tell by the way Elliot was moving, faster and with less grace. “Wanna come.”

“Yeah. Do it.”

Elliot’s eyes were closed, and the skin of his throat and chest were flushed hot pink. “Dex. I’m—”

Dex squeezed Elliot’s dick and thrust up into him, quick and forceful, determined to drive Elliot’s release out of him whether he was ready for it or not. “Yeah, c’mon. Come on me.”

“God.” Elliot whimpered and froze, unmoving except for his cock pulsing in Dex’s grip and the rhythmic tightening of his ass around Dex. His spunk was warm on Dex’s chest. He trembled and moaned, finally collapsing forward onto Dex when he finished.

“Hey, that’s my arm you’re on,” Dex complained, pulling it free. Still with the barking. Maybe they should investigate—no, it’d stopped. Good. Some of the neighbors got pissy about prolonged yapping and he couldn’t blame them.

He lay still, hovering on the brink of orgasm, able to achieve it without Elliot moving, if he didn’t count the erratic flutter of abused muscles, rippling against sensitized flesh. With a sigh, long and deep, he came, a solo effort, his pleasure separate from the man draped over him.

Elliot eyed him oddly when he returned from the bathroom. “Anything wrong?”

“No. Why?”

“You seem a little…” Elliot flapped his hand as Dex pulled on a pair of cut-off denim shorts. “Distant.”

“No, I’m—”

A screech of tires, a blast of a horn, and the horrible sound of an animal in pain froze him in place. Which came first? He never knew because he was running for the stairs as he processed them, bare feet slipping on the carpet, on the tiles, the stone of the pathway burning his soles, the sticky heat of the sidewalk slowing him.

Tank lay in the road, still, so still, a woman bent over him, a car, engine running, driver’s door ajar, a few yards behind her. She reached out to pet Tank, then drew her hand back, as if scared to touch him, fumbling with a phone in her free hand, squinting at it in the harsh glare of the sun.

“Tank.” Dex fell down onto the road, ignoring the scrape of tarmac against his knees. His dog’s sides were heaving but his head was down on the street, his eyes glazed. There was blood. Dex was afraid to touch him too.

“Is he yours? I’m so sorry. He ran out in the—Yes, I need help.” The woman interrupted herself to speak into the phone. “I hit a dog with my car on Grove Street. Can you send someone?” Her hand shook as she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Thank you. I’ll wait here.” She looked at Dex, anguish twisting her face. “I’m so sorry. God, he ran out and I couldn't stop in time.”

A cold nose touched the back of his bare shoulder. Bailey, wagging her tail and looking worried. “Bailey. Sit.” For once, she obeyed him, but to be on the safe side he tangled his fingers in her collar.

“We’ve got to get him to the emergency vet,” Elliot said. Dex didn’t know when he’d arrived and had to shade his eyes with his other hand to see his face.

“Take her,” he said brusquely, pushing Bailey toward Elliot. “I’m going to bring the Jeep over. You, stay with him.” No point in wasting time being polite and exchanging names.

“No, I think you should wait—”

“Are you nuts?” he demanded, staring her down. “He needs help. Now. Stay with him.”

He left at a run, detouring to the house to shove his feet into the flip-flops he wore around the yard and snag his wallet from the hall table. One of Luis’ T-shirts was draped over the chair by the door for some reason and he grabbed it, though it was too tight to be comfortable.

When he started the Jeep, his hands trembled, but he forced them to stay still. Driving was automatic, a skill set he’d learned long ago. That helped.

He parked as close to Tank as he could get without scaring him, then got out. Elliot had tied Bailey’s leash to the fence running around the edge of the front yard and gotten a blanket from somewhere.

“It’s mine,” the woman said, as if that made up for hitting Tank. “You can keep it. Do you need help lifting him onto the seat?”

“No,” Dex said shortly, kneeling beside Tank and stroking his head. God, the poor baby was panting now, eyes wide, sides heaving, clearly in shock from the pain. Rage filled him, but as he’d done when his hands shook, he pushed the emotion away. Tank came first. Lashing out and yelling, assigning blame, wouldn’t help his suffering dog. “I’ve got this.”

She touched his arm. “It wasn’t my fault. I want you to know that. I don’t drive fast, and I’d only gotten through the stop sign there, so I was barely moving. He came out of nowhere.”

“They got out of the yard. The gate must not have been latched.” Dex didn’t know whether to blame Elliot, who’d sworn he’d double-checked but obviously hadn’t, or himself for trusting Elliot's word.

“I swear to you, it was locked,” Elliot protested.

Dex cut him off with a glare and a hand gesture. “Not now. I’m going. Can you stay here and deal with this?” He waved at the woman, assuming Elliot would understand he included the cops and whatever else might follow in ‘this,’ but didn’t wait for an answer. As carefully as he could—Tank’s whimper cut straight through to his heart like a knife—he eased his arms underneath his dog, lifting him and settling him onto the floor of the passenger seat where he’d be most comfortable.

He was grateful for Bailey’s minor accident a few months back because it meant he remembered the route to the emergency vet’s office. One exit north on the highway, left at the lights, travel a mile, another left, and there he was. He wished he’d brought Elliot with him, to call ahead and warn the vet he was on his way, but wishing for things that weren’t possible was pointless. The Jeep's engine seemed quiet. He’d shut off the radio when he’d gotten onto the highway, needing to hear Tank’s breathing to reassure himself.

God. How had this happened?

At every red light, he touched Tank, keeping up a murmured flow of reassurance, a jumble of words, telling Tank over and over that he’d be okay, that Dex was with him, that the pain would go soon. And under his desperation, the agony of waiting for a car to make a turn and clear the road, the need to go slowly around corners to avoid jolting Tank, was a slow simmer of anger, bleak and dark.

Elliot had done this through his carelessness. There was no excuse. None.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the vet’s office, only half the lights were on. Dex glanced at the clock and saw it was after six. He felt a moment’s panic, then remembered the whole point of an emergency vet was that it was open when the other vets weren't. The hours here were six at night to eight in the morning and all through weekends and holidays. It had opened a minute or two earlier, explaining the lack of lights.

He abandoned his Jeep near the door and with Tank in his arms shuffled up and tried to go inside. The door was too difficult to open holding Tank, but when he peered through the glass he could see someone behind the counter, so he kicked the metal door frame several times. The woman looked up and rushed to open the door for him. “Come in. Bring him here.”

She led him into a room with a big exam table on it but didn’t pause, instead passing through the room and into an area behind it. Here there were more exam tables, IV poles, and equipment Dex couldn’t have identified.

“Peter! Emergency!” the woman shouted. “Here, put him down. Are you okay? What happened?”

“A car hit him,” Dex said, lowering Tank down onto the stainless steel table and wincing when the dog whimpered. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t call to tell you I was coming and drive at the same time, and I didn’t know what else to do but put him in the car.”

“No, it’s good. Getting him here as fast as you could was the right call.” The woman’s curly dark ponytail swung with her quick movements as she opened a drawer and pulled an IV pole closer. “Did the car’s wheel pass over him?”

Dex swallowed. “I don’t know. I didn’t—I didn’t see it. The gate was supposed to be latched…”

“Hey, Kara, what do we have here?” A man with red hair—presumably Peter—joined them.

“Hit by a car,” Kara said. “How old’s he?”

It took a few seconds for Dex to realize she’d been talking to him. “Um. I don’t know for sure. Our regular vet thinks maybe five or six. He’s a rescue. I mean, he was a stray when we got him.”

“Well, let’s see if we can rescue him again.” Peter’s hair was wavy and thick, a bright copper shade that seemed to gather the light in the room. His dark blue eyes were kind, but Dex got only a quick, shy glance before Peter focused on Dex. “Hey, boy, let’s see what’s wrong. Oh, you don’t like that, huh?”

Tank growled, deep in his throat, when Peter touched him gently, a low rumble that didn’t stop. Too much in pain to attack, he still exuded an air of danger.

“I smell weird,” Peter said apologetically, stepping back. “Of cats and soap mostly. I’ll knock him out so I can examine him without hurting him. Can you hold him for me?”

“Anything,” Dex said and meant it.

It was a relief when the anesthetic took hold and Tank went limp, beyond the reach of the pain, but terrifying too. So still, in a way he never was, even in sleep. To his horror, Dex’s eyes filled with tears, welling up, spilling over.

He wiped them away, turning his head to hide the evidence of his weakness. Kara left the room to get supplies, moving quickly. Dex glanced around, unsure whether to stay or go.

“Your choice,” Peter said, as if he’d read Dex’s mind. “Some owners find it distressing to watch their pets being treated. He doesn’t know if you’re here or not, so feel free to head back to the waiting room if you need to. I’ll take care of him for you, I promise.”

“Okay. I’ll, um, give you some space.”

He found his way back out to the waiting room and checked his phone; he’d felt it buzz a few times during the drive but ignored it. Elliot had texted him repeatedly. Instead of replying, he texted Shannon.

_Bad news. Tank got out of the yard. Hit by car. At emergency vet’s office. Will let you know how it goes._

Shannon, who didn’t always respond quickly, was typing before Dex’s screen even went dim. _Where are you?_

_Fairview._

_Is Luis with you?_

_No. He wasn’t home._ He wouldn’t bother trying to explain about Elliot.

Angry as he was about what had happened, though, it didn’t feel right to leave Elliot hanging, so he texted him too. _Tank’s in with the vet. No update yet._

_I brought Bailey home. Let me come and sit with you_, Elliot sent.

_No. Sorry. No._

Before Elliot could respond, a call came in from Shannon’s phone. “Hey,” Dex said.

“We’re coming up there. Is there any word yet?”

“No. You don’t have to come—”

“We’re coming,” Shannon said grimly. “Do you need anything? From the house, I mean. I could swing by and grab whatever.”

“No, I’m good.” Shannon’s thoughtful offer overwhelmed him for a few seconds. Dex closed his eyes and took a slow breath in through his nose. “Thanks, though.”

“Okay. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” Shannon paused as Rory murmured something in the background. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. See you soon.”

Time to tell Luis. He’d want to know what was happening, too. Luis didn’t pick up or answer the text Dex sent him, so Dex shoved his phone into the pocket of his shorts and waited for the vet to come out with news.

Peter. Plain name, but the guy attached to it was anything but with that hair and the intense blue eyes. Not muscular, though vets needed upper body strength to haul animals around, but compact. Shorter than Dex. He liked that. Liked feeling stronger than his partner, but in a protective way.

And why did it matter?

Telling himself to focus, he dwelt for an unpleasant few moments on the accident, before shuddering. Couldn’t picture Tank’s shock and fear, the agony of being struck, thrown across the road. Couldn’t go there without the fucking tears returning.

He stood and went to the desk. He remembered from the time they’d brought Bailey in that there were clipboards with paperwork for owners to fill out, and he might as well keep himself distracted. They’d be able to get Tank’s medical history from the regular vet. The bill would be obscene, but luckily they had pet insurance to cover some of it. He wouldn’t consider trying to get the car’s driver to pay. If she was telling the truth, and he had no reason to doubt her, then it wasn’t her fault.

No. It was Elliot’s.

Shannon and Rory arrived before pacing around the waiting room got old. Being hugged by them at the same time took him close to the breaking point again, but he took hold of his emotions and pushed them down deep. Being strong in body and mind mattered to him. He kept in shape and he didn’t fall to pieces in an emergency, not and look himself in the mirror, anyway.

“He’s such a tough dog,” Rory said, once they were sitting in the surprisingly comfortable waiting area chairs. “We have to have faith he’ll come through this.”

Dex didn’t even want to talk about it, not when it meant considering the alternative. “I must have interrupted whatever plans you had for a Sunday night.”

“We don’t give a fuck about that,” Shannon said. His voice was gruff and he held Rory’s hand tightly, thumb stroking it as if offering comfort when in reality, Dex guessed, he was taking it. Under other circumstances Dex would have given him a hard time, but tonight it seemed sweet. “What was—”

A woman entered through the front door. She was older, her hair a shining cap of silver. The wrinkles on her face meant she’d either spent way too much time in the sun or too much time worrying. Maybe both. She nodded at them but didn’t say anything, heading through into the back.

A moment later, Peter came out. “It’s not the best news. Tank has some internal bleeding and we need to go in surgically to find out where it’s coming from. I called in our senior vet to provide an extra set of hands.” He must have seen Dex’s despair, because he reached out and touched Dex’s arm. “I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep, but I’m still hopeful. We’ll do everything we can.”

“Thanks.” Dex hadn’t realized he’d stood, but when Peter left, moving quickly, he found he didn’t want to sit again. “That’s, um, the vet. Peter—I don’t even know his last name.”

Rory wandered over to the desk and looked at the collection of business cards there. “Holland, apparently.”

“He’s nice. I didn’t see him last time. It was another guy, I forget his name.” Dex hadn’t liked him. Skinny, fussy, with cold eyes and zero people skills. He’d done a good job, but in a place like this, a little sympathy and warmth went a long way.

Time ticked by, endless seconds of it, chasing after each other without getting anywhere. The three of them fell silent, the pressure of their shared worry settling over them like a thick, scratchy blanket.

Luis texted, apologizing for being out of touch and telling them he’d gotten the story from Elliot, who was devastated and in need of reassurance and details. Lips tight, Dex sent back a terse update and told Luis to stay put and prep the house for Tank when he came home. He’d need to stay put on the ground floor, and that meant blocking off the stairs and some rooms.

Making arrangements helped. It let him believe Tank would be going home to recover, not today, no, but tomorrow.

Finally, the woman vet came back out to talk to them. “I’m Dr. Fitzgerald. Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, but seconds count. Everything’s fine. Tank had a small tear near his liver but we were able to repair it without any trouble, and he didn’t lose enough blood to require a transfusion. He was very lucky.”

“_We_ were lucky,” Dex said. “He’s gonna be okay?”

She nodded. “He’ll need to stay overnight for monitoring, and when he does go home you’ll have to keep a close eye on him. He’ll need to wear one of those cones so he can’t mess with his stitches.”

“He can come home tomorrow, though?”

Dr. Fitzgerald checked the clock. “I think so, if everything goes well. Probably not until the end of the day. I'll make sure your regular vet has copies of all the treatment. You'll go to them for the stitch removal. Do you want to come back and see him? He’s still unconscious but that doesn’t mean he won’t hear your voice. I think he’ll know you’re here.”

Dex was so relieved his knees felt wobbly. “Of course. Can we both come?” He meant Shannon, knowing Rory would understand not being included.

“Yes. Only for a minute.”

With Shannon close on his heels, Dex followed the vet into a recovery room, where Tank lay in a large cage, a soft red blanket cushioning him, his belly shaved clean of fur and lined with a series of neat stitches. To his astonishment, a tabby cat lay beside Tank, purring in a determined way, staring at them unblinkingly. Her eyes—somehow he knew she was female—were the same green as Peter’s. For a dizzying moment, his mind went to shapeshifters and magic, a sign of his emotional turmoil since his choice of reading material was firmly based in spy novels or nonfiction. Then Peter walked in, and the world steadied.

“Hey. Good news, isn’t it?” Peter smiled at Dex, warm and happy, leaving him with a sense of being enclosed in a blanket similar to the one Tank lay on. Whole different feeling to the suffocating silence in the waiting room. “He’s a fighter, this one. No, I don’t mean that, because I’m sure he’s gentle, but he’s got a will to live.” Before Dex could answer without disclosing Tank’s regrettable list of squirrel and chipmunk deaths, Peter turned to Shannon. “Sorry, I didn’t say hello. Are you a friend of Tank’s?”

Cute way to put it.

Shannon grinned through his beard. He was talking about shaving it for the summer, but Rory was arguing against it. He didn’t need to get upset. It’d grow back fast, from what Dex remembered from the last time Shannon got irritated enough to hack it off. “Co-owner. And yeah, I still am, even if I moved out.”

“Me, Shannon and Luis shared a house before this one left to be with his boyfriend,” Dex explained, not sure why he was opening up to a stranger. “Tank turned up at our door in a storm when he was barely more than a pup, frozen and starved, and we took him in.”

“And Luis is your…” Peter broke off, blushing, his pale skin drowned in a flood of scarlet, the scatter of freckles disappearing. “Sorry, sorry. I ask too many questions.”

Why not lay it out for him? “I’m gay, Luis is bi, but we’re friends, nothing more.” Dex reconsidered. “No, that came out wrong. Friends matter. They’re high on the scale.”

Shannon elbowed him, a solid jab that spoke of his strength. “Better believe it. Now get your ass out of the way. I want to say hi to my buddy here. What’s with the cat?”

“That’s Nurse Cupcake.” Kara, who was writing in a file nearby, looked up. “Her name is Peter’s fault, but the rest of her is mine.”

“Someone found her abandoned as a newborn kitten,” Peter explained, as if it weren’t the first time. “They dropped her off here and Kara volunteered to bottle feed her.”

Kara grinned. “Volunteered, voluntold, potato, potahto. At least she was an easy baby. But she got so used to being here that it didn’t seem fair to displace her when she was grown, plus her remarkable restorative powers kicked in.”

The cat blinked at Shannon when he leaned in through the open cage door to fondle Tank’s ear gently, then yawned and stretched before settling herself into a more comfortable position along Tank’s side. Tank slept on, oblivious to all of them.

“She started out as Cupcake,” Peter said. “The nurse part didn’t get added until later.”

“For obvious reasons,” Dex said. “She’s sweet.”

“She’s also a fierce mouser on the rare occasion one makes the mistake of entering the building.” Peter gazed at the cat as Shannon scratched under her chin.

“Will she be safe if he wakes up?”

“I’ve never known a dog to react badly to her, but if he did, she can get out fast and he can’t. See?” Peter swung the cage door closed and opened a smaller door set into it, leaving it ajar. “But he’ll be groggy and uncomfortable and glad of the company, I guarantee it.”

Dex had reservations, but he kept them to himself. The sight of the two animals together was undeniably touching and if it made Tank’s return to consciousness less of an ordeal, he was all in favor.

Kara whisked herself away and Peter followed her, leaving Dex and Shannon to stand close to the cage, talking to Tank in low, loving tones that Nurse Cupcake acknowledged with a twitch of long, stiff whiskers. Her paws were tipped with pure white fur, impeccably clean.

“So what happened?” Shannon asked. “How did he end up in the street?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Butt out.” It was a harsher warning than he’d intended. The cat mewed, a sharp, reproving sound, but Shannon shrugged, indifferent to Dex’s show of aggression.

“Tough shit. He’s my dog too. I want details. Do we need to go after the driver?”

Dex snorted. Shannon looked the part of the big, tough biker, but it was only that; a look. Not that he couldn’t hold his own in a fight, but he didn’t look for trouble. “The driver was a middle-aged woman and it wasn’t her fault. Tank ran out in front of her and she wasn’t speeding. She’d come through the stop sign on the corner and I believe her when she said she was crawling.”

“Lucky for him.”

“Yeah.”

Shannon gazed at him steadily, waiting.

It wasn’t as if Dex would start a loud argument, considering where they were, and he knew Shannon was taking advantage of that, but he also knew he’d have to spill sooner or later. “Tank and Bailey were in the yard while Elliot and I were upstairs. The dogs were barking; we were busy so I ignored them.” Which made the accident partially his fault.

“So what? Some kids were teasing them? Let them out?”

That wasn’t a possibility that had occurred to Dex. “I don’t think any of the kids in our neighborhood would be anything but nice to Tank. They all love him, and they know if they wanted to play with him they could ring the bell.”

“Maybe some new kid? A friend, visiting?”

Dex shook his head. “The latch is on the inside; you know that as well as I do. A kid would have to climb the fence. Or bring a ladder if they wanted to reach over.”

“Which means…” Shannon trailed off.

“Yeah. Whoever went through it last didn’t shut it properly. And that was Elliot, who swore he did because he left it open once before.”

“Ah.” Shannon scratched his cheek. “Looks bad for him, but if it was his fault, well, he didn’t mean it. And he could think he’d closed it and not realize it’d slipped free. I was convinced I’d emptied the dishwasher the other day until Rory pointed out the plates in there had pasta sauce on them from supper the night before. Convinced. I remembered doing it.”

“Your mental failings are Rory’s problem, not mine.”

“Easy. I’ve got you, big guy.” Shannon and Dex weren’t huggers in the general scheme of things, but tonight was different. When Shannon drew him in, strong arms, familiar scent, Dex didn’t resist and risk hurting Shannon’s feelings, but he was glad when it ended. Another moment locked against that broad chest, Shannon’s beard tickling his cheek, and who knows what he would’ve blurted out.

“Time to give Tank some peace,” Peter said, popping his head around the door. “We close at eight tomorrow, but someone will be here keeping an eye on things. We’ll call tomorrow when he’s ready for pick up, and if you want to know how he did during the night, I could, uh, text you. If you want me to.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Dex reassured himself with one last glance at the sleeping dog before they headed back to the waiting room and Rory.

Chapter Three

It was weird to enter the house and not be greeted by an exuberant Tank. Dex wasn’t surprised to find Elliot sitting on the couch—his car had been in the driveway, after all—but even with the TV on the house was strangely quiet. Luis was there, too, with a beer he’d opened and then abandoned on the coffee table where it was out of reach.

“How is he?” Luis asked.

“Okay. They’re keeping him overnight but they think he’ll be able to come home tomorrow.”

“We saved you some dinner.” Luis got up, adjusting his jeans. “Let me heat it up for you. You must be starving.”

Dex shook his head. “Mostly I’m tired. But yeah, I should probably eat. Thanks.”

Luis went into the kitchen, leaving Dex and Elliot alone. Dex went over and sank down onto the chair no one usually sat on, wanting to keep some distance between himself and Elliot. He knew they had to talk but didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry.” Elliot was looking down at his hands. “That gate was latched. I double-checked it, I swear I did. After I took Bailey home, I even came back to see if it was, I don’t know, broken or malfunctioning or something, and it wasn’t. It latches fine, and it was latched fine when we left them in the back yard.”

“And yet.”

“God, give me a break, will you?” Elliot drew in a shaky breath. “I went to pieces after you left and so did the woman. It was hell not knowing if Tank would make it or not. I texted her by the way and she wants to come visit when he’s up for it.”

“Yeah, well, people say a lot of things but it doesn’t mean they follow through.” He was a needle stuck in a groove, scratching Elliot, wanting to draw blood.

“Dex.” Luis’ voice was mellow usually, but tonight it had an edge to it. Lot of that going around. “Get past it. What’s done is done and the main thing is that Tank’s survived. Elliot, go on home and don’t beat yourself up over it. Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”

After a worried glance at Dex who returned it with a grimace that might pass for a forgiving smile in a dark cellar at midnight, Elliot left the room. Dex heard the two of them talking quietly, but didn’t strain to pick up the words.

He braced himself for a scolding when Luis came back, but what he got instead was kindness, unexpected enough to leave him off-balance. Luis rested his hand on Dex’s shoulder and squeezed it before sitting on the couch again. “Thanks for handling everything. Can’t have been easy.”

Dex sighed. “Yeah, it wasn’t fun, I’ll give you that.”

“Food’ll be ready in a little bit. You want the remote?” Luis didn’t often offer Dex control of the TV, so Dex was surprised when he didn’t wait for an answer, but tossed it into Dex’s lap. “As long as we don’t have to watch that show where everyone’s naked.”

“I can’t imagine why that bothers you.” He pushed the button to bring up the cable guide and scrolled through the options. “You’re into girls and guys, and that show’s got one of each. Naked.”

“But it’s stupid that they’re naked. It doesn’t make any sense for them to be. It’s supposed to be about them trying to survive under difficult conditions; having the clothes on their back doesn’t change that. The station’s trying to get more viewers, and I can’t get how that even works when they blur out all the breasts and dicks. Hell, they even blur out the ass cracks. It’s dumb.”

“Still better than half the other stuff that’s on TV,” Dex muttered. This was a familiar argument, one they’d had at least half a dozen times before, and it made him feel better.

His improved state of mind got a further boost with a text from the vet later on. Peter’s personality, friendly, yet hesitant, as if he expected a rebuff, came across in his words.

_Leaving the office so thought I'd let you know Tank came around. He had some water and licked his new friend a few times and now he’s asleep again. No need to answer; my battery’s dying on me._

He showed the text to Luis who heaved a sigh. “That’s good. Going to forward it to Shannon?”

“Sure.”

While he tapped the screen, Luis asked casually, “So are you and Elliot still at the friends with benefits stage? Because you seemed pretty pissed at him and that goes along with caring in my experience.”

“Weird logic.”

“Nope.”

“I’m allowed to be pissed off. He almost got Tank killed. Or worse. Suppose the driver swerved and crashed?”

“You’re right about the situation having worse outcomes, but we don’t know for sure it was Elliot’s fault. I thought you liked him.”

“I do.”

“But you don’t love him?”

“God, no!”

Luis turned the heavy signet ring he wore around on his finger. A gift from his dad, he rarely took it off. “Why not?”

“Why don’t I love him?” The conversation puzzled him more than the question. Luis wasn’t given to prying or getting deep and meaningful any more than Dex was. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. He’s cute, hot, and you get along great. What’s holding you back? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing.” Dex had a flash of clarity. “And _that’s_ what’s wrong. He’s fine. Good job, great personality, happy life.”

“You want a fixer-upper?”

Dex laughed and shook his head. “Maybe? I like...I like being needed.” With a few beers in him and the stress of the day taking its toll, he opened up. They hadn’t turned on a lamp and the room was dark now, lit only by the TV, muted, babbling away to itself. “You build a house of cards and you lean two against each other, right? Take one away and the other falls.”

“Like Shannon and Rory.”

“Yeah. They need each other. Elliot and me, we’re two cards lying side by side.”

“Or one on top of the other.”

Dex shot Luis a suspicious glare. Oh yeah. Bastard was smirking at him. A well-aimed cushion took care of that.

“I think maybe you like him a little more than you want to admit, that’s all.” Luis threw the pillow back at him—Dex deflected it and sent it spinning to the floor—then reached for the beer he’d abandoned earlier. He took a swig and grimaced. “Warm. Anyway, go get your dinner out of the oven before you starve, asshole.”

“You take such good care of me,” Dex said with a flutter of eyelashes, and went to do as he’d been told. When he came back holding the too-hot plate with a dishtowel, he asked, “Why all the interest in what’s going on with me and Elliot?”

Luis’s gaze was firmly on the TV, which Dex had left on a show about home renovation. “I don’t know. Curious if I'm getting a new roommate, I guess. Or losing another one.”

Dex knew he wasn’t serious. “No and no. Elliot and me, we’re not headed in that direction. The roadblock between us and that direction is the size of a football field.”

“A football field’s flat,” Luis said.

“Yeah?”

Luis grinned. “Not much of a roadblock.”

“Fine. A skyscraper, then. Or anything else that’s big. Mount Everest. I do like him, and he likes me, and the sex is good, but that’s all there is to it. Neither of us secretly harbors hopes it’s going to go anywhere.”

“Sounds convenient.”

“Newsflash, that’s not an insult.”

They sat in companionable silence as Dex ate his dinner. The meatloaf and mashed potatoes were dried out, but his stomach was empty enough that it didn’t mind.

Finally he stood and stretched, stiff muscles popping. Too long spent still. Maybe a run. He loved jogging through quiet, dark streets, past houses settling down for the night, lights burning in some rooms, out in others, the few cars that passed seeming loud in the quietness. No lawn mowers, no kids shrieking, few dogs barking. Only the smack of his running shoes against the sidewalk and his steady breathing. It wasn’t that late, but it was dark. Good enough. “Going for a run.”

“Want company?”

Dex shook his head, knowing Luis wouldn’t be offended. “Need the space.”

Outside, a mile into his run, his thoughts steadied and settled. Luis was right. Blaming Elliot wasn’t helping. Blame and resentment and guilt; they’d corrode the relationship until nothing was left and he didn’t want that. Elliot and he had a good thing going. Maybe things were a little too vanilla, but for all he knew Elliot felt the same way. It’d been a while since he’d had a threesome. They were always fun. He grinned wryly, remembering the fallout from the last time he’d suggested it. Shannon and Rory might let him forget it in the next decade. Or maybe not.

He pictured Elliot between him and another guy, a sweet wreck, moaning, begging for more, getting what he was given and giving them everything he had.

Mistake. Running with a boner was uncomfortable as hell.

*****

Dex’s phone rang at noon. He was on his lunch break, sitting at a table outside a sandwich shop, and had taken a huge bite of his turkey BLT. Glancing at the phone, he saw it was the vet’s office calling, so he hastily chewed and swallowed, pushed the button to pick up the call, and promptly choked.

“Heh-hello?” he managed, coughing some more.

“Hi, it’s Doctor Holland, I was—Are you okay?” Peter’s voice, already familiar, sounded concerned.

He cleared his throat, overly conscious of his embarrassment. “Fine. Sorry; something went down the wrong pipe.”

“You’re eating lunch. I could call you back later if you want.”

“No, it’s fine! Is Tank okay?”

“He’s great. I called in and spoke to the tech on duty. He woke up hungry and had some breakfast and he’s already been out. There’s no reason you can’t come get him this evening. Maybe around six after we open? I’ll have some instructions and I’m sure you’ll have questions.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Miss him that much, huh?” Peter’s gentle teasing didn’t bother him. There was too much understanding and sympathy behind it.

“House seems empty and quiet without him.”

“Yeah. I had a point a couple of years ago when I suddenly didn’t have any pets—I usually end up with older ones, or ones with medical issues that need more care than the average person can provide—and it was hard, coming home and not having anyone to greet me.”

“One day was enough for me.”

“So I’ll see you later?”

The questioning tone made no sense since nothing was more certain, but Dex responded to it anyway. “Yeah, you will. Thanks for letting me know, Doctor.”

“Peter. Please.”

With memories of Shannon calling Rory ‘Doc’ and making it an endearment and suggestive at the same time, Dex was happy to go along with that.

He finished his sandwich and went back to work, distracted by thoughts of Tank and imagining of what his dog’s day was like, left alone in a cage in a strange place. Knowing Tank, he had the tech wrapped around his paw and was getting plenty of attention.

God, what must it be like to have to make the call and tell someone their pet had died? It was terrible to contemplate. It must be so depressing. It sure wasn’t the kind of job Dex would want, no matter how much he enjoyed being around animals.

He pulled his Jeep into the parking lot at six-twenty, cursing the traffic and eager to see for himself that Tank was okay.

“Hi! Tank’s dad, right?” Kara was behind the desk again; she seemed to do double duty as technician and receptionist.

“That’s me. I hope he’s been behaving himself.”

“He’s such a nice dog. The tech's spent a lot of time with him, keeping him company. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you, though.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Peter appeared, a woman with him. She carried a small cage with a black cat inside. The cat was mewing loudly, but the woman was smiling, so Dex guessed all had gone well.

He took advantage of Peter’s distraction as he ushered the woman to the door to study the man, approving the hair and build, and noting the softness at the waist and stomach. His type for some reason he’d never been able to define, not that it mattered. Taste was subjective and it made Dex happy that not everyone hankered after muscles and taut, sculpted bodies.

Then Peter turned, saw him and smiled, a wide, happy beam, that had Dex’s attention focused on his face, nothing else.

Nice. The guy was nice to the core. He couldn’t imagine Peter being mean to anyone. And, yeah, that was a lot to get from a few conversations and a smile, but he’d bet his last cent on it being the case.

“Hi! Let me take you back to see Tank. He’s sleepy still, and on painkillers, but that tail of his wags nonstop when someone pats him.”

“He’s a sponge for being fussed over. Can’t get enough of it. You should see him crawl into my lap and nudge my hand if I don’t stroke him. We think he’s half cat. Or he thinks so, anyway.”

Peter led Dex into the back, where Tank was in the same cage he’d been in the night before. There was no sign of his feline nurse and his eyes were half closed.

“Nurse Cupcake had enough, I take it?” Dex asked.

“There were other patients more in need of her special talents,” Peter said solemnly. “No, I lie. She's napping. Tank, look, your dad’s here.”

Perking up at the sound of his name, Tank got one look—or maybe sniff—of Dex and immediately struggled to his feet, whining. “Hey, buddy,” Dex said, curling his fingers through the bars and swallowing past the lump in his throat. “It’s okay.”

“You can open the cage and let him out.” Peter reached past him and pulled up on the latch in a way Dex didn't find intuitive. Pet-safe, for sure.

Tank shoved his way into Dex’s lap, the plastic cone keeping him from disturbing his stitches looking uncomfortable. His tail beat a loud pattern on the smooth linoleum floor and he licked Dex’s neck and chin lavishly. “Your breath hasn’t gotten any better,” Dex told him.

“For the first few days, no walks. Keep the trips outside to relieve himself short. The cone stays on, no matter how much he hates it, and most of them do.” Peter tapped the cage. “Do you have one of these at home? We don’t want him jumping up or running around until he’s healed, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to stay in a crate unless you’re with him, monitoring him.”

“It sounds like I’ll be taking some vacation time.” Dex knew he didn’t have to do it alone, and that was a relief. Shannon, Rory, Luis and yeah, Elliot, would pitch in and help, not to mention his mom, who adored Tank, but the stubborn loner part of him wanted to take care of his dog solo.

How much of that was guilt, he didn’t know. Should’ve checked the gate, not skipped safety because his cock was hard and he wanted to get off. Damn it. If he only had that moment to relive, he’d do so much differently.

Tank whined, picking up on Dex’s mood, and he made an effort to smile at Peter and scratch Tank’s ears the way he liked.

“I’m sure he’d be happier spending some time with you than in a cage, but I’m friendly with the guy who manages the local shelter. He’d loan you a crate if I asked nicely.”

Something about the way Peter had worded that got Dex’s attention. “How nicely?”

Peter blushed. On his fair skin the heat flared up dramatically. How would that flush of pink-red look on other areas of his body, like his ass? “We used to go out.”

Ha! Suspicion confirmed, Dex scratched Tank’s chest. Knowing Peter was gay or bi made it even easier to talk to him. “And now you don’t, and he’d be willing to do you this favor why?”

“Long story.”

“You’re smart. Make it short.”

“Okay—the very, very short version is that he has reasons to want to get back in my good graces.”

Dex could think up plenty of potential reasons, but it was clear Peter didn’t want to go into detail. That was understandable. He was at work, after all. “Gotcha. Well, I guess we’ll see how it goes. I’ll take the rest of the week and re-evaluate over the weekend.”

Peter nodded, then took a deep breath, visibly gathering his courage. “Uh, God, this is awkward. Are you interested in maybe going out for a drink? Or something.”

“I’m more interested in the something,” Dex told him, then remembered Elliot. “But I’m seeing someone. Kind of. Not serious, but I don’t mess around behind people’s backs.”

The change in Peter was dramatic. Total closedown, painfully tight smile. “Of course. Forget I said anything.”

“Listen, I only mean—”

He was talking to Peter’s back and the door closed before he finished his sentence, but he completed it anyway under his breath. “I’d have to tell him first.”

Dex was alone for about a minute before Kara joined him. He noticed wryly that she seemed less warm than she had before when she gave him instructions on caring for Tank, including returning his leash. Peter obviously inspired loyalty.

“Do you want a hand getting him into the car?”

He shook his head, at that point wanting to get out of there sooner rather than later. “I’m good.”

“Then take him to your vet in about ten days for the follow-up and stitch removal. Don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions or concerns off hours, though. Someone’s pretty much always here.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Of course, he’d have a whopping bill to pay even with the pet insurance, but that didn’t matter as long as Tank was okay.

It took an hour to get Tank home and settled in on the ground floor in a nest of cushions. Shannon came over with a bag of dog treats and promptly removed the plastic collar from around Tank’s neck.

“We’re not supposed to,” Dex protested.

Shannon rolled his eyes. “It’s to keep him from messing with his stitches. I’ll sit here on the couch and stop him if he does, so it’s cool. I’ve got it covered.” He lifted Tank up onto the couch and sprawled out with the dog in his lap. “Rory’s bringing dinner over in half an hour. Where’s Elliot?”

Dex felt a twinge of guilt. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him today.”

“Well, call him. Unless you’re getting off on making him suffer.” Shannon lifted an eyebrow.

“There’s only one kinky son of a bitch in the room and I’m looking at him.”

Unruffled, Shannon grinned. “I don’t hurt Rory’s feelings.” The smile left his face. “I’d never keep him hanging the way you’re doing to Elliot. If you’re in a place where you can’t get over this, you need to tell him.”

Red hair, blue eyes… But Elliot was sweet, a great fuck, and they’d been together months now. Ending it with him over Tank was overreacting and doing it to pursue Peter was a step too far, too soon. He barely knew the guy. Elliot was a sure thing.

With an uneasy sense that any decision he made was the wrong one, he took out his phone. “I’m calling Elliot. See me call? See me being nice?”

Shannon petted Tank and crooned, “See the big, bad man do as he’s told? Isn’t he cute? Isn’t he adorable?”

“If you didn’t have the dog on your lap, I’d kick your ass so hard.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He pushed the buttons to call Elliot, heading up the stairs as he did. Shannon might have a point, but that didn’t mean Dex was thrilled about having him listen in on their conversation. The other end of the line rang and rang and before Dex was sure it was about to go to voicemail, Elliot picked up.

“Hello?” He sounded cautious and tired.

“Hey.” Dex hadn’t spent any time thinking about what to say. “So… hi.”

“Well, you’re not yelling at me, so I take it you’re calling to let me know Tank’s okay. Which I already knew. I called Luis earlier.”

“Oh. Uh. Good.”

“So why did you call, Dex?”

“To say I’m sorry?”

Elliot sighed. “Are you sure? Because it’s okay if you aren’t. We agreed this thing we had going was casual. If we’re done, admit it.”

After walking into his bedroom, Dex sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to be. And I’m sure. I’m sorry. I was freaking out about Tank getting hurt and looking for someone to blame, but it wasn’t right that I turned on you.”

“I feel guilty as hell, but I swear—” Elliot broke off. “Okay, can we leave it behind us now? Because nothing can change what happened and I can’t keep apologizing when I didn’t—” He gave an exasperated grunt. “Going round in circles.”

“Yeah. So let’s head in a different direction. I’m taking most of the week off to keep an eye on Tank, but by Friday I’ll be ready to blow off steam. How about we hit the Crown for food and a few beers then head over to Calypso?” The Crown Inn served craft beer and Elliot was a big fan. Suggesting it was an attempt to smooth things over.

Not to mention Elliot danced like he was having vertical sex. Dex loved watching him, loved rubbing up against him, with Elliot grinding his hips all slow and dirty.

“Sure. Sounds good. Want to make it a party? Invite Luis and Rory and Shannon if they’re around?”

Huh. So much for a romantic night together. But once they got to Calypso, romance was off the cards anyway. Too noisy, too sweaty, too hot. Calypso was for getting off. “Shannon’s gonna be on the door and I was planning to ask Rory to dog-sit, but I guess Luis would be down with it.”

“Great. See you on Friday at the Crown. Seven? Seven-thirty?”

“Seven-thirty.”

He ended the call and stretched. Did Peter like clubbing? Couldn’t see him dancing or getting wasted. Could see him pressed against a hallway wall getting kissed and groped until he was one sweet, hot blush.

Jesus, now he was hard. He palmed his stiffening cock and shook his head ruefully. Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

Chapter Four

“Dex. Get up.”

He’d been in a deep sleep, dreaming a dream he’d had before—something about being a kid and scared, about a monster stalking him in the darkness of his childhood back yard—and it was hard to wake up. His body didn’t respond the way it usually would. He was slow and uncoordinated, tangled in the sheets. What time was it?

“Dex.” Luis’s voice.

Blinking the nightmare from his eyes, Dex struggled to sit. His bedroom door was open and Luis stood in the doorway, backlit from the hallway ceiling light, face in shadow, Tank beside him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Fucking dog got his cone off and he must have been licking his incision. It’s all red and I don’t know where the stupid cone went. Come hold him while I look for it.”

Dex managed to get himself out of bed and over to the doorway, where he sat on the floor and tangled his hand into Tank’s collar so Luis could let go of it. “Dumb dog. God, what time’s it?”

“Two or something, I don’t know. Jesus. What do we do if we can’t get the cone back onto him?”

“It can’t be that hard. Shannon’s done it a couple of times.”

While Luis went off to look for the cone, Dex got up and hefted Tank onto his bed. In the amount of time it took for him to turn away and flick the switch on his bedside lamp, Tank was already at it again, curving his body so he could worry at his stitches.

Dex yelped and grabbed the dog. “No! Stop. You’re a bad dog. Very bad.” As usual, Tank seemed to think any conversation directed at him was praise. He thumped his tail against the bedcovers, grinning at Dex and panting.

Luis appeared, cone in hand, forehead creased with worry. “This is like having a baby to look after. Did I mention I never want kids?”

“It’s nothing like kids. Babies need to be taken care of for years before they can take care of themselves. Tank needs it for a few weeks.”

“I’m exhausted.” Luis flopped onto the bed, dark hair falling back, a thick, riotous mane, framing a sinfully good-looking face. Dex was too used to Luis to register how attractive he was most of the time, too used to labelling Luis off-limits. He and Shannon had drooled plenty when they’d met Luis, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested, citing the complications of living in the same house and having sex with one or both of them.

Dex would’ve been willing to take the chance at the time.

He took the cone and managed to fit it around Tank’s neck, with the dog seeing it as a game, struggling playfully to get away. Good to see him lively, but it made the task twice as difficult. Once it was on, he rolled Tank over onto his back to inspect the incision. The stitches were dark marks on pale pink, the shaved skin around it inflamed and raw, as if it'd been rubbed with sandpaper.

“Isn't it cats who have rough tongues?” Dex asked. “Damn it. It looks bad. What if it’s infected?”

“Call the vet’s office and check in? They’re always open for a reason, right?”

“What if there’s an emergency and I’m interrupting a life or death situation?”

Luis rolled his eyes. “Then I assume it’d go to voicemail or something. This is what they do. Would you do me a favor and call so we can go back to sleep? Some of us have to go to work tomorrow.”

It was easier to do what Luis wanted than to continue with the back and forth questions, so Dex nodded. “I’ve got this. Go on back to bed.”

“_Thank_ you.”

Luis shuffled off to his room while Dex found called the vet’s office.

Peter answered, voice sleepy, but it sharpened to life when Dex identified himself. “Hi. What’s happened?”

“It’s not urgent,” Dex began.

“Unless you don’t like sleep, it must be.”

“Tank got his cone off and licked the stitches until the skin looks raw and hot. I know he’s on antibiotics, but I’m worried.”

Peter yawned. “Sorry. Should’ve finished my shift at midnight and people kept bringing in pets, some of them with nothing much wrong, but a couple serious. I had to put down—never mind. Listen, I’m heading home now, but I can stop by if you want me to and check it out. I’ve got a bunch of sample meds I can bring in case he needs them.”

“House calls? I didn’t know vets did those.”

“I don’t usually, but since it’s you I’m willing to make an exception. Besides, I drive past your street on my way home. It’s no big deal.”

“Yes, it is, but I won’t keep you talking. Thanks. I mean it. I owe you. Want me to have a hot drink waiting?”

“Don’t offer me coffee. I’m so wired I could probably push the car home.”

“I have a vague memory of what that was like.” To be honest, now he was settling into middle age, it was only a dim memory. Dex could stay up until one or two, sure, but anything past that and he was useless.

They said their goodbyes and hung up. It wasn’t too hard to carry Tank back downstairs. He was a big dog, but Dex was strong. The plastic cone cutting into the sensitive skin of his upper arm was the worst of it. Dex lowered Tank onto the couch and told him sternly to stay, then went into the kitchen to see what they had for drinks in the fridge. Peter didn’t want coffee, but he might want a soda or something.

He went back to the couch and sat next to Tank while he waited. He was on the verge of dozing off when the sound of tires in the driveway snapped him to attention, heart thudding in his chest, body convinced something dangerous was lurking.

“Hey,” he said, swinging the door open when Peter’s form loomed on the other side. “Thanks so much for… what the hell is that?”

“It’s the—ow, damn it, that was my shin—crate I should have insisted you get in the first place,” Peter said grimly, wrestling a stack of wire and plastic into the house.

Dex wanted to help but the best he could do was keep Tank, who’d slid down off the couch and come over to join them, from getting in the way. “You didn’t have to bring it! I could have gotten one.” Somewhere.

“Tank needs one now.”

Impossible to argue with that. Pity Tank didn’t agree, viewing the crate with deep suspicion after Peter had set it up in a corner.

“Sorry,” Peter told him, “but if you want to be back to normal fast, you’ve got to make sacrifices.”

“Yeah. Luis and I are short on sleep.” Dex took a good look at Peter and winced. “Okay, judging by the circles under your eyes, I’m complaining to the wrong person.”

“It’s nothing. I pull an extra-long shift once a week or more. I’ve adjusted.”

The yawn punctuating his words made him a liar, but Dex didn’t point that out.

Peter bent over Tank to examine the incision. “Hmm, red, yes, but no real damage done. I’ve got a tube of ointment in the car you can put it on it. But keeping him caged so he can’t lick or scratch is the best way to let it heal. It’s not cruel.”

Dex sighed and looked at Tank sternly. “If you’d behaved yourself, none of this would be necessary.” He shifted his gaze to Peter again, studying him. “I know you said no coffee, but what would you say to bottled water?”

“That’d be great, thanks. Let me run back to the car and get that ointment.”

Peter went out into the driveway while Dex, shadowed by an anxious Tank, went to grab a water bottle from the fridge. There was still no sign of Peter when he returned to the living room, and a glance through the front door showed Peter bent at the waist—shame the passenger side door blocked Dex’s view—rummaging in the back seat. Dex pondered for a few seconds, then went out to join him.

It took no time at all to grasp why Peter was having a hard time finding a tube of ointment in the mess that was his car. Blankets, towels, paper bags and cardboard boxes, a tangle of some kind of medical tubing, and other unidentifiable items combined to create one of the most chaotic car interiors Dex had seen.

“God, don’t look,” Peter groaned. “I know, okay? Hang on a second, I know it’s here somewhere.”

“Don’t you have a dumpster at the office?”

“Yes, of course.” Straightening up, small package in hand, Peter looked triumphant. The small smile on his face made something in Dex’s belly clench with arousal. “Here!”

“Thanks.” Dex stepped back to give Peter room to shut the door again, then moved in close until Peter had no choice but to lean against the car. They were near enough to be touching. They weren’t, not yet, but _God_, Dex wanted to. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re…” Peter didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he gazed at Dex, a question in his eyes, lips parted in a way that cried out for a kiss to seal them shut.

“Yeah, I want to,” Dex murmured, mindful of the late—or early—hour. “Want to do more than kiss you.”

“But you’re seeing someone.” Peter’s lips twisted wryly. Not a smile. “Does he know your attention’s, uh, divided?”

“He knows it’s not serious. And he knows I’m not averse to playing with more than one man at a time.”

“A threesome?” Peter blinked at him. “People do that? It’s not only in porn movies?”

Okay, that was adorable. Naive, but adorable. “Don’t know about people, but I do sometimes, yeah.”

“With this guy you’re seeing?”

“Elliot. But no, we haven’t done that together.”

“He doesn’t like the idea?”

“Never asked him.” Dex shifted his feet, disturbed by the way the conversation had twisted on him and conscious of Tank alone in the house. “Why? Do you want to make up the numbers?”

Peter swallowed, hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ve never even met the guy. I don’t know him, I barely know you. No offense, but it seems risky.”

“I get that. You could get to know us, if you wanted to. You can’t work all the time.” Dex found the shape of Peter’s mouth mesmerizing. “You still haven’t said.”

“Said what?” Peter had to know what he meant.

“If I can kiss you.”

“Oh. Um.”

“Any answer is okay,” Dex assured him. He wasn’t the kind of guy who was into kissing someone who wasn’t fully on board. “If it’s no—”

Peter leaned in swiftly and pressed his lips to Dex’s. It wasn’t a long kiss, and it definitely wasn’t enough as far as Dex was concerned. He caught the back of Peter’s neck with his free hand and pulled him in close again, gentle, paying close attention for the slightest hint of resistance. There wasn’t any. Peter melted against him and parted his lips. His mouth was soft but his stubble threatened to rub Dex’s face raw. The combination of the two sensations turned Dex on more than anything ever had in his life, and his cock hardened immediately.

“I didn’t think—” Peter moaned and grabbed onto Dex’s ass. “I only meant—” He kissed Dex again and Dex let the package of ointment fall to the driveway, freeing up his other hand so he could settle it on Peter’s hip.

It was strange to kiss out in the open, yet know the odds of anyone watching were remote. No lights in the surrounding houses, the sky still dark, with dawn approaching in the east. They were as private as if the kiss took place in a basement. A breeze swirled around them, playful, teasing, a cool contrast to the searing intensity of their embrace.

God, he could do this forever. Stand with Peter in his arms and learn the taste of him, the way he responded to a touch _there_, a squeeze _here_. The urgency of his arousal was a throb, an ache, each beat of his heart bringing him closer to the moment when stopping would be torture.

A dog barked, a distant sound, but one that had them jerking apart.

“God, I forgot Tank.” Dex bent, scooped up the tube and pushed it into Peter’s hands. He was drunk with tiredness and lust, but not to the point where he was prepared to neglect his pet. “Come back in and help me put this stuff on him, then stay over. Sleep with me. Only sleep.”

“What? I can’t do that.”

Heading back to the house, Peter at his side, Dex said persuasively, “You’re exhausted. Driving tired is dangerous. Sleep on the couch if you want, or in Shannon’s old room. His bed’s still there.”

Truth was, seeing Peter drive away would hurt. He wasn’t ready to have sex with him, not without talking to Elliot, but he couldn’t ignore the heat flaring between them.

Peter put the ointment on Tank’s irritated incision without replying, and set the tube up on a high shelf where the dog wouldn’t be able to get it. “There, that’s a good place to leave it. Now let’s get him into the crate where he’ll be safe until morning.” He folded up a blanket, put it into the crate, then tossed a nearby toy into the back and watched with satisfaction as Tank went in after it. “See? He’ll be comfortable and a lot less likely to hurt himself.” He fastened the crate door and straightened up, hiding a yawn. “Is that my water?”

“Yeah, sorry. Here.” Dex passed it to him and watched as Peter twisted off the cap and drank a third of the bottle in several long gulps. When he lowered it, his lips were damp and Dex wanted so badly to kiss him again that he had to clench his hand into a fist as a distraction.

“I’m okay to drive home,” Peter said, but he seemed willing to be convinced otherwise.

Or maybe that was Dex’s hope rearing its determined head.

“I’m sure you’d make it,” he agreed. “But why take chances when you don’t have to? If it helps you decide, I’ll promise not to make a move on you. I’ll even give you my bed and sleep in Shannon’s room.”

“How would that help?” Peter shook his head. “None of this makes sense.”

The best Dex could come up with as an answer was, “Huh?” Hey, he was tired too.

“I barely know you and you want me to sleep with you? Or in your house. Whatever.”

“I’ve fucked men ten minutes after meeting them when I didn’t know their name.” Okay, once. And he’d been a very drunk twenty-two-year-old celebrating his birthday in Miami on spring break. Extenuating circumstances, and even now, a guy in a red Speedo had his balls tightening in a rush of nostalgia. “Compared to him, you’re family.”

“Not helping.”

Punchy with lack of sleep and the ongoing worry over Tank’s recovery, Dex couldn’t summon up more than a weak grin. “Forget I said that. Look, stay. Rest. Go home after you’ve slept.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Peter moved closer. “My dad screwed around on my mom. I swore to her I’d never do that to anyone. Never be the other guy, never break up a relationship. But you make me want to forget that promise.”

Dex hissed with frustration. “I want to call Elliot now and get his okay, but he’d be so pissed at me waking him, God knows what he’d say.”

“I’m too tired to get it up anyway.” Peter rolled his eyes. “Now you’re looking at me as if that’s a challenge to your manhood.”

“I am?” Dex stroked Peter’s face. “See, I thought I was looking at you like I want to kiss every inch of you.”

“You,” Peter said, “are a terrible, terrible man.”

“And yet…”

“And yet,” Peter agreed. “But no. Not tonight. I’m going home, and you’re going back to bed without me. I’ll text you to let you know I made it if it makes you feel better—”

“It does.”

“—but I have pets at home and while my neighbor slash best friend is more than willing to step in when I need her to, there’s no way I’m messaging her at three in the morning to ask her to let the dogs out.”

God, Dex had so many questions. This wasn’t the time for them, and if Peter wanted to drive home now it was safer not to delay him. The reality was, he was an adult, he’d presumably been working weird overnight shifts for a decade, and could make his own decisions. “Okay. Then let’s get you out to your car.” He couldn’t resist leaning in for one last kiss that turned into four or five.

Peter groaned. “I want to. Believe me. If you wake up and don’t realize this was all a horrible nightmare, call me.”

“I’m calling Elliot first.”

“To say what?” Peter ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “I don’t want you to spoil what you have for a quick fling with me. And that’s what it might be. I’m attracted to you, like that’s news, but I’m not...I’m not what you’re used to most likely.”

“In what way?”

“I’m average. Across the board. You could have anyone.” Over Dex’s snort of amusement, Peter hurried on. “And while I’m fond of it—we have good times together—my dick’s average too.”

“I top mostly, so…”

“Yeah?” Peter raised his eyebrows. They were cinnamon colored, thin, dramatic sweeps that defined his face. “So do I.”

“Details.” Dex flicked his hand. “I’m flexible.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re saying to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but I’m telling him that I’ve met someone hot enough to melt steel and I’ll die if I don’t get a taste. I’m asking if it’s a deal breaker for him and if it is, I guess I’ve got a choice to make.”

Peter ran his tongue over his lips, color rising, a sweet flush of it betraying nervousness or excitement, Dex wasn’t sure which. “Or you could ask him if he minded sharing you with me for one night.”

Putting one hand on each of Peter’s shoulders, Dex carefully turned him around and walked him toward the door. “Okay, if you’re going to talk like that, and look like that, you’ve got to go. Otherwise I’ll embarrass myself by begging you to sleep with me, and we’ve made the rational decision to postpone that, so…”

“You’re right.” Peter put the brakes on at the door, though. “Promise me something.”

That sounded serious. “What?”

“That you’ll leave Tank in the crate where he’s safe if no one’s watching him. No, don’t sigh like I’m being unreasonable. I mean it. I won’t be making any more middle of the night house calls to save your dog from your short-sighted stubbornness.”

Dex didn’t buy that. He was pretty sure Peter would do whatever needed to be done including middle of the night house calls to help an animal even if its owner was a stubborn asshole. “I promise,” he said. “Do you need me to walk you to your car?”

“No. And I think we’d better skip the kiss goodnight too.”

Sensible, stern, sexy. Killer combo. Dex settled for a nod, then waited to close the door until the noise of Peter’s car had faded. Drawing in a breath of night air and slapping absently at a confused mosquito, he allowed himself to contemplate how tangled his love life had become, but there was no room for regret.

Not with Peter on board for fun and games.

Elliot and Peter in his bed. God, his mind was blown picturing it. Elliot’s confidence and Peter’s shyness—but Peter liked topping? Interesting. Elliot on his hands and knees, taking them both, mouth and ass full, or kneeling, sucking them off, moving from one cock to another on command.

He groaned, knowing no matter how tired he was, he had to jerk off before sleeping.

Pick a fantasy. Hell, he was spoiled for choice now.

Chapter Five

Peter had never been inside Calypso, though he’d driven past it plenty of times. It was big, taking up a triple lot, with a large space for cars behind it, monitored by security guards. He’d gotten a ride over from his neighbor, with a sense of committing himself to the unknown. No car meant he could drink. When he got drunk, he got reckless, exhilarated. And the sex when he had a buzz on was incredible. Not too much, but he was old enough to gauge the perfect level of intoxication. Not so much that the edges were blurred and he couldn’t appreciate the sensations involved, but enough to diminish his self-doubt.

Jackie had pulled up outside the building, already bubbling with excitement. She took Friday nights seriously and she’d been full of encouragement when Peter told her he had a date and had swapped shifts to allow him to go on it.

What her reaction would be if he’d told her he had two dates, he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he believed it either, but Dex had made it all seem easy, inviting Peter to join him and Elliot at the club on Friday.

That text wasn’t what had left Peter’s heart pounding hard. It was the one that followed.

_Elliot’s in. You, me, him. Wants to thank you for taking care of Tank and he’s got some great ideas on how to do it, trust me. We can go back to his place after the club. Tank’s got a sitter for the night._

He’d showered, cleaned his asshole until it stung, and shoved an optimistic number of condoms into the inner pocket of his jacket, zipping it with a hand that shook.

His hand was still shaking as he showed the big, bearded security guard at the door his ID.

“Peter,” the man said, squinting at the tiny photo then gazing at Peter’s face, comparing the two. Was that suspicion in his voice, or was Peter imagining it? He didn’t look like he put up with shit from anybody, not with those wide shoulders and muscular biceps. His long dark hair was pulled back, showing off strong features. He looked familiar, but Peter was too on edge to pin down where they'd met. The guy gestured impatiently at someone inside nearby. Were they seriously refusing to let him in? Did they think his ID was a fake? He was in his thirties, for God’s sake, and looked it.

“There you are! Thanks, Shannon.” Dex joined them, smiling widely.

Relief flooded Peter as he realized who the security guard was. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I was fucking with you,” Shannon said, giving him his ID back. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I could tell you didn’t recognize me.”

“You work here?”

“No, I was pretending. Of course I work here! Dex asked me to keep an eye out for you. Been here before?”

Peter shook his head, letting the sound of the music filter in. He’d been so focused on their interaction that it hadn’t registered. “First time.”

“Then let me show you around,” Dex offered. He’d leaned in close to speak into Peter’s ear and the sensation of his breath against Peter’s skin was unintentional foreplay. Or maybe fully intended.

He nodded, then realized bobbing his head constantly wasn’t the ideal way to come across as smooth and at ease. “Sure. Thanks.”

“No, thank you,” Dex told him and if it wasn’t a murmur, given the need to talk over the bass beat shivering the air even here at the doorway, it was intimate enough to make him shiver. “For turning up. For being...flexible.”

Oh shit. He was walking into the club with his cock at half-mast and the black denim jeans he wore were tight enough to make hiding that reaction impossible. Uncomfortably tight, not sexy-tight, but they were all he owned that seemed suitable.

He knew what and who to blame for the extra pounds he’d put on in recent months; his lack of willpower and the baked goods Kara brought in, claiming making cookies and muffins kept her sane.

Dex slung his arm over Peter’s shoulders, the weight of it easy to bear, the message it sent clear to anyone looking. With me. Taken. Back off.

Most of the men they passed glanced once, their gaze lingering on Dex, whose heavily muscled body was showcased by a blindingly white cut-off T-shirt and faded jeans, washed so soft they clung to his thighs like wet tissue paper. Peter tried to ignore the stares, tried not to trip and stumble into anyone holding drinks.

One man looked and didn’t look away, his attention fixed on Peter. Good-looking, but not excessively so, wearing well-fitting jeans and a white T-shirt like Dex, but making them a fashion statement, not a jolt to the balls.

Embarrassed by the intent scrutiny when he was clearly with someone else, Peter stared at the ground, but a moment later he was forced to look up when his path was blocked. He breathed in expensive cologne, the citrus notes complex and arousing, and felt the body heat radiating off the man before him, standing close enough to overwhelm his senses.

“Hey, shy boy. Don’t I get a smile?”

Peter lifted his chin. It might be his first time at Calypso, but he wasn’t shy and he didn’t smile on command. Not going to get fooled again. “You must be Elliot.”

“I am. And I won't touch you until you tell me I can, so don’t look so freaked out.” Elliot stepped back and offered Peter his hand to shake. “Let’s be friends.”

Friends. Yeah, he could do that. Maybe. He could definitely shake Elliot’s hand, so he did. “Sorry. It’s kind of a lot all at once.” That was true, though probably not for the reasons Elliot thought.

“I get that. Can I buy you a drink? Not planning to get drunk, but it wouldn't hurt to take the edge off.”

“That makes sense. Sure, thanks. I’ll take a beer.” He watched as Elliot went off toward the bar, then turned to Dex, who gestured at a table in an alcove with a soft drink on it.

“Partially to claim the booth,” Dex explained, “but also because we didn’t want to start without you. What do you think of the place?”

It looked like most of the gay clubs he’d gone to when he was in college—okay, and during the years since—when he should have been studying. Or, more recently, sleeping. “It’s great. I mean, I don’t go out much these days, so anything would look good to me. Do you come here a lot?”

“Don’t know if I’d say a lot. Couple of times a month. Usually on nights when Shannon’s working.”

“Elliot, too?”

Dex nodded. “Sometimes. He’s a better dancer than I am, and he’ll be happy to prove it to you.”

“I like dancing.” He wasn’t great at it, not like some of the people on the floor, who were moving with fluidity and confidence, but when he was surrounded by people and the music worked its way deep into his bones, some primal need was triggered and he lost himself in the sheer joy of matching each beat with his body.

“We’ll make sure you get to do everything you like.”

Was it a promise he wanted them to keep or not? Swallowing a nervous laugh, he smiled instead, forcing his facial muscles to project an illusion of relaxed and happy.

“Hey.” Dex leaned in and kissed him, lips soft on Peter’s for a moment. “We won’t do this if you’ve changed your mind. You can do that any time. I mean it. It’ll never be too late to back out. If we’re naked and in bed, still not too late.”

How did Dex know worry had occupied his brain all day? That panic would set in and he’d feel compelled to endure the sex to avoid disappointing them or coming across as a tease? This was a dangerous situation because he found himself drawn to Dex on more than a sexual level. If it was a casual fuck, that would be easy.

Elliot came back from the bar with three bottles of beer and a guilty expression. “I was overdoing it, wasn’t I?” he asked, giving one of the bottles to Peter. “Sorry. I’ve never done this before and I was trying to hide that I’m kind of nervous.”

“You’re nervous? What about me?” As soon as he’d said it, Peter wished he hadn’t.

“I know. That’s why I’m sorry. I should have thought more about what it’d be like, coming into this situation. Speaking of which, why did we decide to do this here instead of somewhere a little less crazy?” Elliot directed this question at Dex, who was in the middle of swigging from his beer.

“Because we already had plans,” Dex said, like it was a reminder. “I don’t know, it made sense at the time.”

“It’s fine.” Peter felt the need to reassure them, and being in that position took the edge off his anxiety. “Can we sit for a minute? Would that be okay?”

Elliot moved toward the booth. “Whatever you want.”

With a sturdy chair underneath him and the first few swallows of beer in his stomach, Peter felt more relaxed.

“So Dex met you at the emergency vet’s? We were there a few months back with my dog Bailey, too. Nothing serious, though we didn’t know that at the time.” Elliot was making small talk and Peter was grateful.

“I’m glad Bailey’s okay. Who did you see?”

“I forget his name. Younger guy, on the short side, thin. Dark hair? Damn, I’m terrible with names.”

“It must have been Stefan. There are only three vets at our practice, and the third’s the woman who started it.” He knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t resist. “What did you think of him?”

“He was fine.” Elliot glanced at Dex for confirmation. “We thought Bailey might have broken her paw, but it turned out it was sprained. She wasn’t all that cooperative for him.”

Another nail in the coffin. Peter sighed. Technically, Stefan was an excellent vet, but half a dozen clients had complained that he was cold, distant, and their animals seemed restless around him. “Some dogs are less comfortable with men than women,” he said, hoping the explanation would be accepted.

“Sure.” Elliot seemed less than convinced, but he changed the subject, chatting about his own job, something to do with conserving and monitoring the wetlands around the city.

It interested Peter, who made a conscious effort to stay green at home and work, and he found himself warming to Elliot, enough so that when Dex left to get another round, he didn’t object to Elliot patting the seat beside him, eyebrows raised.

They sat in a curved booth, with a small table and a chair opposite the padded bench seat. Peter had taken the chair as a way of indicating he knew they were a couple who should sit next to each other. But for tonight, at least, they were more than a couple and a hanger-on. They were together.

He slid onto the seat and turned to say something, anything, shocked to silence when Elliot took his mouth with a kiss, hand sliding around the back of Peter’s neck in a caressing, not controlling, way.

Not counting Dex, it had been a while since he’d been kissed. For the first thirty seconds it was as if he’d forgotten how to do it; his lips bumped Elliot’s awkwardly, and his mouth was too dry. Who came up with the idea of kissing anyway? Oh, except that this part, the one where Elliot’s tongue stroked against his, went right to the pit of his belly and smoldered there. And this part, where Elliot hummed happily… this part was great.

Kissing was amazing, and whoever had invented it was a genius.

He turned more fully toward Elliot, wanting to be able to change the angle. They kissed a few more times before Dex's return interrupted them.

“Hey, what’s this?”

Elliot grinned against Peter’s mouth. “I’m trying to catch up a little. How many times did the two of you kiss again?”

Peter tried to think, but it was all kind of a blur. “Twelve times? Fourteen, maybe? Who counts them?”

“It was twenty-one,” Dex said, clearly grabbing a number out of the air. He sat on Peter’s other side, effectively trapping him. Peter didn’t feel trapped, though. He felt emotionally excited, physically turned on, and eager to get his hands on both of them.

When he’d told Dex threesomes were for porn, he’d left out the part where they were a fantasy of his, one of the few he’d never experimented with. Something about the idea of the sheer excess of two men to touch, kiss, fuck, the delicious greed of it, appealed to his hedonistic side.

There'd been a time when he'd indulged it often, though recently e’d been focusing heavily on work, concentrating on the side of himself that was into duty and responsibility. Not to mention bills to pay, including student loans until last year. He’d financed his share of the business with an unexpected inheritance from the childless uncle he’d been named for, but he still owed the bank a staggering amount for his mortgage.

Tonight he’d allow himself to forget how much, lose himself in pleasure.

“Twenty-one,” Elliot repeated, his hand on Peter’s thigh, high enough to verge on touching another body part entirely. “You got a head start. Okay, I’m going to take what I’m owed later and it won’t be your mouth I kiss.”

“Later?”

“Yeah.” Elliot leaned past him to kiss Dex instead, pulling him in, so their heads were in front of Peter, shielding him from view and letting him see the kiss at close quarters, permitted voyeurism. “Later, honey. First, I want to dance.”

“No point arguing with him,” Dex told Peter good-naturedly. “Trust me; I’ve tried.”

“I won’t bother, then.” As arousing an experience as this was, Peter was overwhelmed, and time on the dance floor would clear his head.

He let Elliot lead him out in the middle of the crowd, glancing back to make sure Dex was following them. If they were going to do this—all of it—he wanted it to be all three of them, not breaking off into pairs. Well, Dex and Elliot were more a couple than any other combination of them, so if they wanted to—

His thought process was interrupted by the sudden press of Elliot’s body against his from behind, Elliot’s hands on his hips, moving him to the beat of the music. The percussion was rapid and determined, the thump of it working its way into his bones. God, it felt good to be touched. Dancing in a crush of others like this was like becoming part of a larger organism. There must be a reason people wanted to do it, some basic instinct urging them away from solitude and toward connection.

Elliot was a good enough dancer that being guided by him gave Peter the illusion of talent. He shifted his hips, moved his feet, let himself be turned to face Elliot so Dex’s hands could replace Elliot’s at his waist.

“Told you he was good!” Dex had to lean in and put his mouth near Peter’s ear to be heard over the thumpa-thump of the music.

“You were right!” Peter wasn’t sure that had been loud enough, but he also wasn’t sure it mattered. This dance was about a different kind of communication.

The security of being between them, surrounded, safe, was as comforting as sliding into a hot bath or between cool sheets. He closed his eyes for a moment and blocked out the crowd, concentrating on the two men holding him, touching him with intent but not rushing him. It was a seduction, but a gentle one, at least for now. He sensed the heat rising between them, but for now the fires were banked, smoldering.

What would bring them to life? What word of his, what caress would make Dex and Elliot give way to instinct and satisfy their arousal? Not knowing made every move a gamble. He loved it.

With a hint of mischief chasing away his doubts, he twisted to the side, their arms supporting him, and slid an arm around their waists. Linked in a circle, equal, they stared at each other, smiles growing.

Oh yeah. This would work.

“You’re having fun,” Elliot said, clearly delighted.

“With you two? Of course I am.” Peter told himself he didn’t continue speaking his thoughts out loud because it was too hard to shout over the music, but he didn’t think ‘I’m lucky your dog got hurt and ended up in my ER’ was an appropriate sentiment to share.

He was having such a good time he was reluctant to put a stop to the dancing, and Dex and Elliot seemed to be waiting on him to make that call. They went back to the table to down a second round of drinks. There was nothing like a cold—or even a lukewarm—beer after sweating up a storm. As soon as the bottles were empty they went out on the dance floor again. The song playing as they pushed into the crowd was something that apparently required everyone to jump up and down repeatedly, and even though Peter didn’t recognize it he was happy enough to participate.

When that song ended, the music segued into a slow ballad. A few of the men near them sighed and drifted away off the dance floor, but most of them paired off, wrapping their arms around each other and swaying back and forth. Peter faltered. Should he leave and let Dex and Elliot have this one romantic dance together?

Elliot reached for him, pulling him in close. After a brief moment, Dex embraced him from behind. Calling it dancing would have been overly generous, but the sense of togetherness made it everything Peter wanted. He leaned in and kissed Elliot, then turned his head to look at Dex over his shoulder and said, “Let’s get out of here. You want to?”

They exchanged glances, but there was only one answer Peter wanted or expected and he got it when they nodded in unison.

Elliot lived close enough that walking was quicker than calling a taxi and waiting for it to arrive. Later, Peter supposed, when the club was closing, there’d be taxis at the entrance, waiting, but it was too early for that.

They walked side by side soon leaving the retail area for quieter, residential streets, tree-lined and prosperous. The age of the houses was reflected in the size of the giant oaks and elms, roots pushing up the sidewalk in places, leaves rustling in the light breeze.

Elliot’s place was a small, shabby house tucked between two larger ones, in need of some upkeep, but charming, with dormer windows and a wide porch lending it character. The huge dumpster in the front yard lacked any appeal though.

With an airy wave, Elliot said, “Yeah, I need to paint, but I’m working on the inside first.”

“He’s gutting it,” Dex told Peter. “Every time I come over, another wall’s gone or a floor’s been ripped up.”

“It’s a work in progress. Poor Bailey hates all the hammering, but she’s getting used to the smell of paint.”

On cue, a dog barked from inside the house, an excited yap of welcome.

“Okay,” Elliot said, pushing the door open and moving inside quickly, presumably shoving his dog out of the way with his legs and reaching for the light switch. In the sudden flood Peter blinked and saw a beige dog sitting as if she’d been told to but could barely contain herself. Her tail was a blur against the floor. “Good girl. Stay.”

“Bailey? God, she’s pretty.” Peter didn’t extend a hand, not wanting to encourage her to disobey. “I guess I don’t have to ask if she’s friendly.” The angle of Bailey’s tail wag had shifted and now it slapped the floor in a quick rhythm.

“Crazy friendly,” Elliot warned him. “You won’t like it.”

“Why, because she’s big?”

“Well, hm. No, because people can always guess she’s a pit mix and they make assumptions. A golden retriever can knock someone down and be given more slack than a pit that doesn’t do more than lick someone. But I wasn’t thinking about you being a vet. Do you support breed specific legislation?”

“Not for a second.” Peter tried to sound reassuring as he moved closer to Bailey.

Elliot smiled. “Say hello to her, and then I’ll take her out for a minute while Dex shows you around.”

Bailey sniffed his hand and gave it an enthusiastic lick, pushing into it for a pat Peter was willing to give. “You’re so soft,” he crooned. Her tail wagging kicked up a notch from happy to enthusiastic.

“Don’t expect to say that to me any time tonight,” Dex murmured into his ear. “It’s not even true now.”

Peter snorted with amusement as Bailey ran after her owner when Elliot grabbed her leash. “What’s gotten you so revved up?”

“You. Elliot. What’s happening next. Hot as hell, all of it.”

The sincerity in the blunt reply took Peter’s breath away. He’d never been desired so openly, with such fervor, but the glow in Dex’s eyes left no room for doubt. “Save the rest of the tour for later and show me the bedroom,” Peter said.

Dex led him up a staircase and toward the back of the house. The master bedroom was large, with room for more than the bed and dresser Elliot had furnished it with. Peter noticed some paint cans and tools piled in a corner before Dex distracted him by drawing him closer for a kiss. The swell of Dex’s erection against his stomach was a thrill, proof of Dex's desire.

“Want to undress you,” Dex murmured, biting at his neck.

Peter shivered. “Will Elliot like it if we start without him?”

“Too late,” Dex said. “Already have. Anyway, here he is.”

“Oh yeah, I’m here.” In the doorway, hands busy stripping off his clothes, Elliot was wasting no time.

Maybe it was the easiest way to do this. Forget toe-dipping and go for a cannonball entry to the water and discover the temperature that way. Interested, overwhelmed by Dex’s closeness and Elliot’s body, revealed in a series of flashes, he forgot to return Dex’s kisses, frozen in the moment.

“Like what you see?” Naked, still over by the door, Elliot framed his erection with his hands, blatantly showcasing what he had to offer. A different body type from Dex, he was fit and lithe in a way Peter couldn’t match, his cock stiff and proud.

“Yeah.” Peter cleared his throat, and tried again since the word had been more of a croak. “You’re incredible. Both of you. I’m—” He didn’t doubt his sexual prowess, but he hadn’t come to terms with the weight he’d gained over the past year.

“You’re perfect,” Dex told him, hands at the waist of his pants, ready to undo them for him. “And if you ever suggest otherwise, I’m going to be mad as hell. And so’s Elliot.”

Elliot was beside him now, gloriously naked and pushing Dex’s hands out of the way so he could be the one to slip the button free of its buttonhole, slide Peter’s zipper down slowly, one metal tooth at a time. “He’s right. When he told me about you, I was on board because I trust him—not, you know, his taste in men, but in general—but as soon as I laid eyes on you I knew what he was talking about. You’re hot.”

“I’m not—” Peter tried to protest again, but Dex stopped him with a hard kiss.

“Mad as hell,” he said as a reminder, and Peter nodded and let them undress him.

Elliot did most of the work, since his clothes were already on the floor. Still, Dex didn’t leave all of it to him, and dropped down to his knees to help Peter with his shoes and socks before leaning in and mouthing Peter’s erection through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. “Average? Really? You’re no slouch in the cock department.”

“No, I guess not.” It wasn’t the first time a partner had suggested Peter was well endowed, and he knew from experience that most of the erections he had experience with weren’t bigger than his. He exhaled shakily as he felt the warmth of Dex’s breath through the layer of cotton.

“What do you like? No, what do you not like?” Elliot asked, dragging his mouth across Peter’s chest and leaving a trail of sensation behind. “We’re not super kinky, so the only toys in here are a dildo or two, but if—”

“Sex, plain sex is fine,” Peter assured him. He wanted to do, not discuss, but he appreciated Elliot’s concern. “Uh, I like oral, giving and getting, so yeah, keep doing that, Dex. God, feels great. And I don’t mind getting fucked, but I prefer being the one doing it.”

“Ooh.” Elliot stepped back. “I thought we’d put you between us, but it sounds like I’m the PB and J in this sandwich. Nice.”

“He’s gonna help me make you scream,” Dex said, hooking his finger in Peter’s shorts and tugging them down enough to bare the head of his cock. “Except I guess you’ll have your mouth full, so we won’t hear much more than ‘mmmph’.”

“Asshole.” Grinning, Elliot smacked the back of Dex’s head lightly. “If you don’t behave, I’ll tell Peter your ticklish spots and we’ll pin you down and hit every one. Then we’ll see who’s begging for mercy.”

Peter was about to comment on how playful they were together, and how much he liked it—sex had always been more serious his experience—but Dex licked wetly across the ridge under the head of his cock and distracted the hell out of him. He closed his eyes to concentrate on how it felt. He’d never had an issue holding off on orgasm when he wanted to, and he enjoyed allowing the pleasure to build.

“Is that good? You like his mouth on you?” Elliot’s voice was low and hoarse with arousal now. With Dex kneeling in front of Peter, he had to turn Peter’s head to the side to kiss him, which prevented Peter from answering. He couldn’t imagine it was anything but a rhetorical question, anyway.

Dex put both hands on his thighs and used his thumbs to tease the underside of Peter’s balls as he took him in deep, sucking hard. Peter groaned and Elliot took full advantage, pushing his tongue past Peter’s lips to explore the inside of his mouth. Impossible not to groan again, especially with Dex sucking his shaft. He wasn’t sure where his boxers had gone; he was glad they weren’t in the way.

He hadn't fantasized about having a threesome often, but it needed adding to the list. One man sucking his cock, another kissing him made for a hot dream.

Except it wasn’t. It was real.

“Let’s take this horizontal.” Elliot guided Peter over to the huge bed, a bed made for three, or maybe for someone who liked sprawling in his sleep. The white sheets were mirror-smooth, the pillows plumped, the quilt, patterned in a gray and white feather print, resting on the bed like a fluffy cloud.

And a moment later, with the three of them lying on it in a tangle of arms and legs, it was a crumpled mess, but no one seemed to care.

The focus moved from Peter to Dex without words spoken, patient Dex who’d done such a good job on his knees. Peter repaid him with soft, sucking kisses to his balls while Elliot jacked him with a lube wet hand. The lube smelled of mint and left Dex’s cock glistening.

“You’re okay with oral bare, I take it?” Elliot asked.

Peter nodded. “But nothing else.”

“Oh for sure.” Elliot gestured at the nightstand, where a scatter of foil packages lay beside the lube bottle. “Safe not sorry.”

He'd never been in a position where a partner refused to use condoms, but it was reassuring to be on the same page. Running his hands over Dex’s bare skin, he took a moment to be grateful for these men, who’d been nothing but kind and respectful.

Peter reached out and circled his hand around Elliot’s wrist, tugging him down for a kiss. “I like your house.”

“Yeah? It’s kind of a mess, but you should have seen it a year ago. I’ll show you pictures some time.”

“Some _other_ time,” Dex said. “I’ve been hard for hours—can’t we focus on that? Plus it seems like I’m not the only one.” He looked pointedly from Peter’s erection to Elliot’s. “Can’t we talk about home renovations later?”

“He’s kind of bossy sometimes,” Elliot said in a whisper, as if he was telling Peter a secret.

“And Elliot thinks he knows everything.” Dex rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Come on—are we gonna do this, or are we gonna procrastinate?”

Peter felt confident enough to join in the banter. “Is that what we were doing? You must be a bad influence. I’m not a procrastinator, not as a rule.”

“Says the guy who hasn’t cleaned out his car in at least a year.”

“I have, it gets messy again fast, is all.” Okay, maybe he was the outsider, but someone needed to take charge before they talked themselves out of this. Choreographing sex between three men was a life skill he wasn’t sure he possessed, but he couldn’t picture these two doing more than grin over bumped heads and scraped cocks. “Elliot, would you get on your hands and knees and let me see Dex slide into you? Is that okay?”

Elliot drew in a breath. “God, when you say it like that, I get tingles. You want to watch? That’s it?”

Peter did some breathing too, consciously striving for calm when his body was a strung-out scream of need. “Not even close to all I want, but yeah, I do. Want to see your face screw up when he breaches you, then relax when he’s in deep. Want to crowd in and touch Dex’s cock and your hole at the same time, lick where they join. Want to touch you both as you fuck, anywhere I want, then get in front of you and have you suck me. Complete the circle by kissing Dex, so we’re connected, all three of us.”

He ran out of words, unsure what had prompted the vocalization of his fantasies. He was terrible at dirty talk usually, hesitant, faltering, blushing, but with these two he was a different person.

Dex choked on a groan and squeezed the base of his cock. God, he was the hottest thing Peter had ever seen. “Glad we use condoms. Not sure I’d last long without one.”

“If you didn’t, we’d go again,” Elliot said. He was already getting into position, the jut of his erection mostly hidden from view by his thigh. “You were the one being all impatient. Fuck me, already.”

“Yeah.” Dex pushed on Elliot’s hip a little, shifting his position to leave room for Peter, then rearranged him some more before pausing. “C’mere,” he said to Peter, gruff, but when Peter moved in expecting a kiss he found Dex catching his hand instead, squeezing lube onto his fingers. “You want to see my cock slide into him? Make sure he’s slick enough for me first.”

Doing his best to ignore his aching cock, Peter teased a wet fingertip along the soft edge of Elliot’s hole, smiling when Elliot whimpered at his touch. “You like that?”

“Love it. Love being fucked too.”

He traced Elliot’s hole some more, then pressed his index finger inside slowly, spreading lube and marveling at the heat and gentle clench of flesh, so tight. Dex smiled and slipped his finger in too.

“Feel that? Two fingers. Imagine if it were two cocks. You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

Elliot whined, catching his breath on a sob. “Yeah. In theory. God, knowing you’re both touching me blows my mind. More.”

Exchanging a glance with Dex, Peter shrugged and worked a second finger in, making room for Dex to do the same. The garbled sounds Elliot made when they pushed their fingers in and twisted went straight to Peter’s balls. His skin was hot, tight, as if the desire filling him had nowhere to go, but it did. He had Elliot and Dex to share it with.

They finger-fucked him slowly, until Elliot’s cock was rigid, a deep red, the head glistening, his orgasm close.

“He’ll come before I’m in him,” Dex said, reaching around to fondle Elliot’s balls. “Won’t you?”

“I might,” Elliot admitted, writhing shamelessly. “Okay, fingers out, cock in. Ram it in. Want to feel you.”

“If you’re sure. Peter, put a condom on me?” Dex asked. He pressed the packet into Peter’s hand and wrapped his around the base of his cock to steady it. “Having fun?”

“Yes. I’ve never, um. Done this before.”

“So you said. Elliot’s losing his threesome virginity tonight too.”

“At least I’m in good company.” Peter had to use his teeth to rip the foil of the condom packet open—his fingers were too slippery with lube and it felt rude to wipe them clean on Elliot’s sheets even though he knew they’d be a mess soon enough—but once he had, he was able to roll it onto Dex’s erection without much trouble. He loved having both hands around Dex’s cock, one wrapped around the shaft and the other weighing his balls, and he was pretty sure Dex loved it at least as much by the expression on his face. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you having fun?” Letting impulse guide him, Peter bent and sucked the head of Dex’s prick, the combination of latex and lube bitter on his tongue.

“Jesus. Yeah. Maybe we should do this. Elliot won’t mind if you’re the one who fucks him.” Dex slapped Elliot’s ass lightly.

Peter pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “No, I want to watch you together.”

“Fair enough.” Dex ran his hand over his smooth head, the new growth of hair barely visible in the dim light. It set him apart in Peter’s eyes, and with the impressive musculature made him look like a gladiator from ancient times. Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but Dex projected strength and vitality. “Watch and listen, because Elliot’s gonna make lots of noise for us, aren’t you, babe?”

Without waiting for a reply, he did what Elliot had asked for and sheathed his cock in one slamming stroke, drawing a wild yell from Elliot followed by a demand for more.

Jesus, Peter was glad he’d made it clear he preferred to top. Even after stretching, that had to have hurt, but from the blissed-out look on Elliot’s face and the stream of encouragement flowing from his mouth, he didn’t share Peter’s view.

Peter stroked the hair away from Elliot’s face and licked the side of his neck, supporting Elliot with an arm across his chest, holding him in place for more of those punishing, glorious strokes. How did it feel to be inside that tight, clenching heat? Would he find out tonight? Or would he get to fuck Dex? He shivered picturing it and dropped his free hand to his prick, working it feverishly.

“You’d better knock that off,” Dex told him, voice remarkably steady. “Total waste. Save it.”

Not easy to go along with that suggestion, but he did because Dex was right. He couldn’t get hard on a dime anymore, not like he’d been able to when he was twenty, and he didn’t want to count on a second round in the morning. He couldn’t even count on spending the night, he realized; they’d never talked about it. He'd hoped and gotten cover for his animals, in case, but without expecting it to happen.

He might have continued with his somewhat distracted train of thought, but Elliot groped at him, clumsy with arousal, and he told himself firmly that it wasn’t okay to drift off. If he was lucky enough to be here, he would be _here_, not lost in his head. He glanced up and met Dex’s gaze.

“Make him suck you,” Dex suggested.

“Yeah. Want to.” Elliot’s eyes were so unfocused Peter wouldn’t have been surprised if he was incapable of understanding conversation, but apparently he’d have been wrong.

The blow job wasn’t the best he’d had from a technical perspective. Elliot sucked him avidly, then paused, riding a thrust from Dex, the irregular stimulation maddening at times, but the eroticism of the situation made up for it. Peter was conscious of the deep, if fleeting, connection between the three of them. He was Dex, slamming into Elliot’s body with powerful, possessive movements, he was Elliot, stretched wide, claimed in mouth and ass, and he was himself, cock engulfed in wet, soft heat, the flicker of Elliot’s tongue driving him wild.

Too much to handle. He grabbed Elliot’s head, forcing him to stay still, and took over for the last few seconds, fucking Elliot’s mouth ruthlessly. His climax ripped through him, electric, unstoppable. He cried out, he knew he did, his release so intense it verged on discomfort, taken out of himself, the connection snapping because this pleasure was his, impossible to share.

Shaking, he pulled away, coming back to awareness in time to see that same pleasure twist Dex’s face into something strangely beautiful. Dex’s hands were clutching Elliot’s hips so hard they were dimpling the flesh, but he wasn’t making a sound as he rode out his orgasm and Elliot, who wasn’t there yet, continued to ride Dex’s cock, shoving backward against him desperately.

“Can’t—” he whimpered.

Peter knew how it felt to be trapped this side of release. Full of sympathy, he repositioned Elliot up on his knees, kissed him, and grabbed hold of his straining, slick cock. Dex groaned and shifted, keeping his dick inside Elliot’s ass, arm clamped around his waist. Elliot whimpered again and opened his mouth to Peter’s, encouraging.

It felt good to give Elliot the same surging, searing burst of ecstasy Dex and he had experienced, were still feeling. Peter didn’t drag out the waiting more than a few selfish moments, loving the weight of Elliot’s cock against his hand, the differing texture of smooth skin around a rigid core, the tickle of hair when he shifted his grip. One, two, and then the third up and down of his hand took Elliot where he wanted to go.

Peter smelled spunk on the air, tasted it in Elliot’s mouth, the acrid, earthy scent unmistakable, his mouth watering as he took more of the flavor. God, he’d missed this.

They separated, falling onto the bed in an exhausted heap, Peter in the middle. Dex peeled off the condom and snagged a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand, tossing the wadded paper onto the floor.

“You’re picking that up,” Elliot muttered, voice thick, hoarse. “Jesus, you did a number on my ass.”

“You complaining?”

“Never.”

Peter had a flash of hurt at being excluded, but it faded when Dex turned to him, kissing him soundly. “You missed your calling. Should’ve been a ringmaster, making all the acts do their stuff.”

Oh God, had he been bossy? Overstepped? “Did I—Was it too—”

Elliot dragged him in for a hug. “Dude. You were perfect. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Peter knew when to do as he’d been told; he shut up, kissed Elliot, then kissed Dex again while he was at it.

He might not know where this was headed, but for right now, things were good.

Chapter Six

Eyes closed, Dex pulled his arm out from under whoever was lying on top of it and positioned his wrist near his face. He opened his eyes. Two a.m., and he was itchy with dried sweat. He hated falling asleep after sex without taking a shower first, but Elliot had crashed immediately and it had seemed rude to leave Peter there alone. Now, though, he wished he'd chosen comfort over being polite.

He crept out of the room as quietly as he could and into the bathroom next door, then started up the shower. It wasn’t the first time he was grateful that Elliot had chosen to renovate this bathroom before moving on to the rest of the house; being able to stand in a wide, newly tiled stall under a top notch shower head was a relief, and he fucking loved the spicy smell of Elliot’s body wash.

A shadow fell across the room: Peter.

“Shit,” Dex said quietly. “I was trying not to wake you. Needed to rinse the sweat off, you know?”

“It’s okay. I never sleep well when I’m somewhere new.” Peter was naked and seemed more comfortable with the state than Dex would have guessed. He kept on being a surprise.

“Want to join me? Elliot made it big enough for two. Turn this lever here and jets get you in all sorts of interesting places.”

Peter chuckled quietly. “Sure.”

They moved into each other’s arms as naturally as raindrops merging on a windowpane. Slow kisses, hands traveling over wet skin… Dex hardened in a sweet, gentle fashion, sated, but still willing for more.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Peter whispered through the sound of the water. “Not without him.”

“It’d be okay if you were the one asleep?”

“Well, yeah. You’re together. I’m the guest.” It was like a switch had been thrown, taking Peter from content to off-kilter.

“After tonight, you see yourself that way? I don’t.”

“Your opinion isn’t the only one that matters.” Peter twisted out of his grasp and slid the door back, stepping out onto the mat and closing the door with a jerk.

Frustrated, Dex shut off the water and followed. “What’s your problem?” It came out sounding angry when he was more confused than anything else.

“I don’t like cheating, okay? Excuse me for having morals.” Peter had grabbed a towel from a stack on the side of the sink and was wrapping it around his waist.

“I don’t like cheating either, it’s not cheating when Elliot knows about it, and fuck you if you don’t think I have morals. Why did you even want to do this if you think I’m such an asshole?” Dex kept his voice low, hoping to spare Elliot the drama.

If this was the kind of surprise Peter hit him with, he wasn’t so sure he liked surprises.

“We agreed to have a threesome,” Peter argued. He wasn’t making any attempt to be quiet. “Not to screw around when your boyfriend is sleeping!”

“Jesus, would you keep it down?”

“If it’s not cheating, why are you worried about him knowing what’s going on?”

Dex shut the bathroom door, which Peter had left open, and looked at the guy. Looked at him, and saw that underneath everything else he was sad. Worse than sad. Miserable. Knowing the only way to dig down to the bottom of it was to be kind, he pushed aside his irritation. “Hey. What’s this all about? Where did all this come from?”

Peter set his jaw and shook his head. “I don’t like cheating.”

“Yeah, you said that already. I don’t like it either, which is why Elliot and I have an understanding. And why I told you I had to talk it through with him before you and I did anything.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But _what_?” Dex jerked his thumb at the door. “If I woke him, and I don’t plan to because he’s grouchy as hell when that happens, he’d tell us to go ahead. I know that. You don’t, and you don’t trust my word, so fine. We do nothing. Now I’m headed back to bed and since leaving at this time of night would be stupid, so are you. I wouldn’t advise sleeping on the couch. Bailey’s trained not to come into the bedroom, but on the couch you’re fair game and she’ll expect you to play and lick you to death if you don’t.”

For a long moment, Peter looked at him, then finally he sighed. “I’m sorry.” It verged on inaudible, but Dex guessed the words based on the way Peter hung his head. “I over-reacted.”

“Kinda, but I’m the forgiving type.” Unless it came to getting his dog hurt. Odd how he couldn’t get past that. “Come here. Hug. Nothing more.”

“I’m damp.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“You swear a lot,” Peter said, but he smiled as he spoke and put his arms around Dex, squeezing him tightly. “There.”

Peter was cuddly, no two ways about it. Absently, Dex caressed Peter’s ass, enjoying the slight jiggle of flesh.

“Yeah, I know. I’m out of shape.”

“There’s nothing about the shape of you I don’t lo-like.”

“Really?” Peter stepped back, frowning, pale skin still showing a flush from the hot water. The freckles scattered across his chest were golden, not dark, patterning his body. Sun kisses, Dex’s mom called them. “But you and Elliot are Buff One and Buff Two.”

Dex yawned, the exertions of the day—and night—catching up with him. “And you’re not. So?”

Peter gave him a quizzical look. “Don’t you want to whip me into shape?”

“You already have a shape, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Even if there was—and don’t let anyone convince you of that—I’m not the BDSM type. I mean, I might give you a birthday spanking for the fun of it, but it wouldn’t be the kind that would leave marks and yeah, I know, that wasn’t what you were talking about.”

“You go to the gym a lot.”

“A lot,” Dex agreed. “Because I like it. It’s stress relief.” He ran a hand over his head, encouraging the drops of water clinging there to run down the back of his neck. “Elliot says he’s into going because he likes looking a certain way, but don’t believe him. It’s because he likes watching all the sweaty men.”

“I could stand to lose some weight,” Peter said. “I’ve put on fifteen pounds over the past year from sampling Kara’s baking experiments. The hours are long and it’s hard to resist when she keeps leaving cookies in the staff kitchen.”

Dex shrugged, but he realized this was a genuine issue for Peter. Question was, would taking him to the gym and showing him the ropes help? Or would it make him more self-conscious about the whole thing? “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”

“Me. It’s in the top ten of my things to worry about when I can’t sleep.” The pinched lips made it clear Peter wasn’t joking.

“Is that why you’re in the bathroom not the bedroom?”

“No, I needed to pee.”

“Yeah?”

Peter blushed. Pinocchio had a growing nose; Peter had the blush. “Okay, maybe, just maybe, I was fretting about how well I’d done and if you’d want to do it again, and if you didn’t would I lose you as a client which would suck because Tank’s a great dog and I want to keep tabs on his recovery.”

“Tank? You’re worried you won’t see my dog again? Not me?” Too late, he saw Peter’s quick grin. “Oh, if we didn’t need to keep quiet, I’d pay you back for that.”

“You know you matter to me.” Peter shot a glance at the door. “Don’t get me wrong—I like Elliot too—but I knew you first.”

He couldn’t hold back a yawn wide enough that his jaw cracked. “Need sleep. Too late to talk.” Dex guided Peter to the door without making it too obvious. Something told him Peter could be coaxed but not pushed. “You need to meet Rory. He’s perfect for you.”

“A _foursome_? I don’t think—”

“Ha! If you don’t want my ass kicked, never ever mention sex and Rory and me in a sentence. He’s Shannon’s boyfriend, remember? And a dietician. If you want to get some advice on healthy eating and shit, see him, and if you want to tone up, come to the gym with me. And if you want to stay the way you are, no complaints from me.” He put his hand over his heart. “I promise.”

Peter gave him a doubtful look, but nodded. “Okay. And I promise I’ll try not to get worked up like that again.”

“Bed,” Dex whispered, and they crept back to the bedroom.

In their absence, Elliot had rearranged himself over near the far edge, one leg dangling into space. The first time Dex had seen him sleeping like that he’d worried he’d fall off, but now he was used to it, not to mention glad there was plenty of room for him and Peter to settle themselves comfortably. Peter in the middle made the most sense. Dex draped an arm across him and nuzzled the back of his neck, nose tickled by all that crazy red hair.

He didn’t think he’d sleep right away, but he dropped off immediately and when he woke sun was streaming in the windows and he was alone in the bed. His feet were tangled in the sheets. He heard voices downstairs and the click of Bailey’s nails on the floor.

Pulling on his jeans, Dex went to join them. They were in the kitchen, Peter sitting at the table sipping coffee and Elliot at the counter making fruit salad. “You’re so gay,” Dex said, deciding that starting the day off as a jovial asshole suited his mood.

“That’s the first thing you say to me?” Elliot grinned and threw half a strawberry over his shoulder. His aim was for shit and the berry ended up on the floor, where Bailey rescued it. She left a damp tongue mark on the old linoleum.

“Actions speak louder.” Dex delivered a kiss to the back of Elliot’s neck, then another to the top of Peter’s head. “Is there any coffee in the pot or did you two drink it all?”

“There’s plenty left,” Peter said, breaking his silence.

Subdued, a little on edge, Dex decided. He’d never been one for subtle approaches, so he said casually, “Did we wake you when we took a shower at two?”

Elliot added orange juice to the fruit salad and a sprinkle of powdered ginger. “Huh? No. What a weird time to shower. Or was sex in a shower with a redhead on your bucket list?”

“We didn’t have sex!” Peter set his mug down with more force than necessary. “But we kissed and I guess it could’ve gone there if—”

“Hey!” Elliot glanced between them, startled, his face clouding over. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you did. Where’s the drama coming from? It’s breakfast time. No drama.”

Peter pushed his chair back. “Sorry. I should go. My neighbor fed my dogs last night and walked them, but they’ll need me now.” His face fell. “I don’t have my car.”

“I’ll drive you,” Dex said. “But have something to eat first. They can wait half an hour more, can’t they?”

He was hoping Peter would say yes, but not surprised when he shook his head. “No. Chico’s about two hundred in people years, and his bladder’s not what it used to be.”

Dex suppressed a sigh. “Okay. Let me get my shirt and keys.”

“And shoes,” Elliot said helpfully. “You’re coming back, right?”

“Sure.”

It wasn’t that Dex had assumed this threesome thing would be a total breeze—he knew from talking to friends it had the potential to get messy—but he’d thought the sex would be the complicated part. Realizing Peter himself might be the complication was confusing. Strangely, though, it didn’t make Dex like him any less.

He waited until he was behind the wheel to say, “We talked about this.”

“Apparently it’s not that simple.”

“Apparently not.”

Peter sighed. “Look, I get it if you don’t want to see me socially anymore, but at least keep in touch until Tank is healed up from his accident. I’d hate—”

“Stop. No, I mean it. Did I say I don’t want to see you anymore?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Then don’t put words in my mouth. What is it that’s got you so twisted up into knots? There’s gotta be something behind this.”

“I told you about my mom.”

“Yeah, I get that, but I couldn’t have made it clearer—more clear? Whatever—that this was above board, cleared to go, totally o-fucking-kay with Elliot.”

“For last night.” Peter stared out at what promised to be a beautiful day, sky cloudless, yards full of the bright bursts of color that spoke of trips to garden centres and money spent in abundance. “That was easy. What happens next? You’re casual with him; what about with me? And the three of us; how casual is that? Are you o-fucking-kay with me seeing other guys or—hey!”

Dex was the cause of that startled exclamation and the blast of a horn told him Peter wasn’t the only one surprised by his sudden swerve into a parking space. What the hell; he’d used his turn signal.

Maybe.

He killed the engine and turned to Peter. “You even look at someone else and I’ll—” Peter’s eyes widened and he revised what he’d been about to say. “I’ll cry. Big wet tears. I’ll go on my knees and beg you not to.”

“Now try again and tell me the truth.”

“The truth? That’d be easy if I knew what it was.” Dex shifted again in his seat, wanting to face Peter during this conversation and needing to be as comfortable as possible. “I feel like you’re redirecting this. Making it about me instead of you.”

“I’m not,” Peter assured him. “I mean, I guess I am, a little, but it’s only because I’m trying to understand.”

“Okay. Do I want you seeing other guys? No, not particularly. Doesn’t mean I’m in a position to tell you not to. You know Elliot and I are friends, because that’s all either of us wants. Maybe you need to have a real talk with him, so he can reassure you that’s what’s going on. It’s not that he wants more and I’m putting him off. We like each other, but it’s never gonna be serious between us and there’ll come a time when one or both of us finds someone we do want to be serious about. When it arrives, I’ll be happy for him.”

“So this is a casual sex free-for-all.” Peter sounded bitter and Dex’s stomach twisted unhappily.

“And that’s not what you’re looking for.” God damn it, couldn’t any of this be easy?

“I wasn’t ‘looking for’ any of it. You showed up, all…” A gesture to indicate Dex from head to toe.

“All what?”

“All you. Hot and nice and so fucking _distant_.”

Dex’s mouth fell open. “You think I don’t give a shit? Is that what this is about?” He let himself go with his instincts, reached out and grabbed onto the front of Peter’s shirt and dragged Peter closer, ignoring the little voice pointing out that it would be uncomfortable across the gear shift. He kissed Peter, hard, making no attempt to keep his turbulent feelings from making their way into the kiss. “I care, okay?” he said when the kiss ended, their noses still almost touching. Peter’s blue eyes were wet and full of emotion. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t.”

“Why?” Peter shaped the word but it emerged as a whisper. He licked his lips, swallowed, and tried again. “Why me?”

“You want flattery? I’m not good at prettying up stuff. But I can tell you the facts. You’re intelligent, kind, responsible. And yeah, that might not hold true for every vet, but I’ve seen you in action. Total sweetheart. Physically, you appeal to me. That’s something I showed you last night and I’d be happy to demonstrate any time you like. And we click. Barely know each other, but we skipped the opening credits and cut to the car chase. Now, if we’re talking negative, you’re driving me up the wall with your doubts, but I’m willing to put up with that because I figure sooner or later you’ll trust me. I’m willing to wait for that to happen.”

Dex sucked in a breath. He didn’t do speeches and that came close to qualifying as one. “Bottom line, I want you in my life, but Elliot matters to me too. I’m not cutting him loose when he’s happy with me. Doesn’t seem fair.”

Peter nodded slowly, forehead creased in a frown as if he was thinking hard. “So what’s on offer is both of you or neither of you?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, we don’t have to hang out as a group, and we don’t have to do the threesome thing again if you aren’t into it.” A moment of doubt flickered. “Wait, you were into it, right?”

“The sex? Sure. Maybe not as a regular thing, but it was fun.”

“Okay. Good. I’d hate to think I was reading the situation that wrong.” Dex glanced around, wanting to make sure they were safe where they were pulled over, at least for a few more minutes. “Anyway, we’ll figure it out, but you still haven’t bitten the bullet and told me what’s rumbling in your background that’s made you so sensitive. And don’t try telling me again it’s about your mom, because I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Peter squirmed and looked out the windshield. “I can’t talk if you’re looking at me. It’s too—I don’t know.”

Turning the key, Dex started up the engine and pulled out again. “Remind me when to turn,” he said. “We’re driving, I can’t look at you. Talk.”

“Right.” For almost a minute, Peter was quiet, though more than once he seemed about to speak. “My last relationship,” he said finally. “It didn’t end so well.”

That made sense. Dex had suspected as much, though he hadn’t guessed that it had been as recent as Peter’s last boyfriend. “What happened?”

“What do you think?” Bitterness soured Peter’s voice, turning mellow to discordant. “I work late. Irregular hours. Most of my work stories are sad ones. We’re an emergency vet. We get the accidents, the late night owners who’ve watched their pet suffer all day, then decide at midnight maybe, maybe, vomiting blood isn’t a good sign. So I’m no fun to be around, sometimes too tired to get it up or care when I can’t. Which means fucking your ex is allowed, even a right, and deciding to tell me you’re hooking up with him again is easiest if you accidentally on purpose include me in a mass email to everyone who knows us with a selfie snapped of the two of you naked in my bed.”

“Whoah, what?” Dex couldn’t pull over again, not when Peter’s dogs needed him home, but he sure as hell wanted to once he’d worked out what Peter was saying. “Asshole. Both of them. God, I want to punch them in the fucking balls.”

“Want to or would? Because I’m not into fighting or macho posturing and I can handle my revenge myself. Though I appreciate the outrage.”

“Want to. Wouldn’t. And now I’m curious. What did you do?”

“Broke up with him. What else could I do? He tried to convince me it was all a misunderstanding, but only an idiot would have bought that. Take a right at these lights.” Peter gestured unnecessarily.

“You’re definitely not an idiot.”

Peter snorted. “Thanks. Cold comfort on lonely nights, though. I guess this whole thing with you and Elliot is a little too familiar. Left here, then it’s the fourth house on the right. The duplex.”

There were a lot of duplexes on Peter’s street. Peter’s house was gray and looked like it had been painted recently. The two front doors, side by side, were different colors, a deep blue and a bright red. “Is yours the blue?”

“Yeah. Jackie’s into red. She would have had the whole house painted red if I’d left it to her, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to have to tell people ‘It’s the one that looks like a fire truck.’ We compromised.” Peter reached for the door handle as Dex shifted into park. “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

They were greeted by two dogs. The bigger one looked like a beagle mix but was missing a leg; her tail swung in wide circles as she came out onto the front porch, maybe to help maintain her balance. “That’s Scout. No, don’t worry, she won’t go farther than the bottom step—she’s too neurotic. And this is Chico.”

“The old man,” Dex remembered. The Chihuahua's body was brown but his face was white with age, and his eyes had a milky quality. “Is he friendly?”

“Not particularly, but he’s not aggressive or anything. He doesn’t care about being petted.”

“Fair enough.” Dex had never understood why some people didn’t get that not every animal enjoyed being picked up or touched. Even when Tank was the opposite, never happier than curled up close to a human. “Rescue dogs?”

“Yeah. Heartbreakers because I know when I adopt them, I’ll have a few years, no more, but I make them the best few years I can for the animals and try not to miss them so much that I don’t adopt the next one.”

And Peter wondered what Dex saw in him?

He waited in a kitchen as messy as Peter’s car, nursing a mug of instant coffee, while Peter fed the dogs after letting them out into the small, fenced yard. The duplex had little of Peter’s personality about it, as if he didn’t spend long there. The walls were blank, painted a neutral off-white, and the flooring was cheap laminate, scarred here and there with claw marks from cats or dogs. But it smelled clean despite all the clutter, and when he made use of the tiny powder room off the hall, it was in no worse a state than the one at his house. The dark blue sink and toilet dated it badly though, showing signs of hard water deposits.

A cat with long fur in a hodgepodge of dark colors wandered into the kitchen and froze, staring at Dex with suspicion.

“Who’s this?” Dex asked, not making any sudden moves.

Peter turned from the dishwasher and looked. “That’s Ophelia. She was semi-feral, living in an alley behind the donut place near work. She got pregnant and then sick so I called a friend of mine who does TNR and she came and trapped her. I kept her in the spare bedroom until she weaned the kittens.”

“And after that you didn’t feel right turning her back out onto the street?”

“Pretty much. She’s gotten used to me. Every once in awhile I wake up and she’s asleep at the foot of my bed, but that’s about the extent of our interactions.” Peter came over and sat. “Sorry about the coffee. Don’t feel like you have to hang around. I know Elliot’s waiting for you.”

“Yeah.” Part of Dex wished he hadn’t told Elliot he’d come back for breakfast, the same part that wished he could spend the day with Peter instead. “When’s your next day off?”

Peter checked his phone. “Monday, but I’m working the night before so I’ll be asleep half of it.”

Dex pictured himself sliding into bed with a sleepy Peter, drawing that warm body against his and letting the rhythm of their breathing align. He’d stay so still until Peter woke, then coax Peter’s cock to full hardness with barely there brushes from his fingertips, kiss the back of his neck, part his legs and tease his hole, then… But Peter didn’t go for being fucked. Okay, he’d roll over and let Peter be the one to slide into him, the sideways position keeping it all slow and languid until maybe the end. Peter would reach around and find Dex so hard for him, so ready to be taken in a tight grip—

“Did you hear me?”

Dex blinked. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Monday afternoon then? I can take a half day.”

“Don’t do that,” Peter protested. “Don’t waste your time off on me.”

“I don’t get time off. There’s a construction job, I work it, it ends, then we get another. But yeah, this is a busier time of year, and I already lost a couple of days this past week hanging with Tank. After I finish? I could shower and change, then we could go out for a meal or something?”

The courtship ritual was one he fumbled through. He was fine with flirting a man into a fuck, but romancing him into something serious? New territory.

Peter was watching him closely, as if he were trying to read Dex's mind. “Okay. If you’re sure you want to.”

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t ask. I’ll pick you up at six? Do I need to know anything about your eating habits?”

“I like to,” Peter said, patting his stomach. “I don’t eat much meat these days, but I’m not a strict vegetarian or anything. It’s more because I have a hard time reconciling spending my work hours and most of the rest of them helping animals… sometimes it feels weird to realize I’m eating them. I probably shouldn’t think about it so much.”

“Not if it makes you feel bad.” Dex jumped when Ophelia rubbed herself against his calf, one cautious pass before she disappeared. “Should I be flattered?”

“Either that or concerned.” Peter smiled at him. “Go on, get out of here before you get in trouble with your not-boyfriend.”

“That won’t happen.” He hesitated, then reached out and pulled Peter to him for a kiss, liking Peter’s gasp and immediate surrender. Sweet kiss, turning hot in a flash, as if the two of them formed something volatile.

“Don’t forget what I said. Any of it.”

“I won’t. I—” Peter rubbed his fingers over his lips, then met Dex’s eyes frankly. “I couldn’t.”

“God, if I stay any longer, I’ll drag you into your bedroom.”

“Or be dragged.”

Dex grinned, heading for the door. “Do we have control issues? Am I ever gonna get to fuck you?”

“Maybe and maybe.” With a grin, Peter added, “But your ass is mine next time, muscle man.”

“Do not ever call me—” He was talking to a closed door. With a huff and an impatient shake of his head, Dex turned away.

Taking Peter to the gym for a session was high on the agenda now. At least there he’d be in charge, no doubt about it. He’d get to sit next to a sweat-slicked Peter in the sauna, then stand by him in the showers, frustration a delicious tease, their arousal mounting.

Smiling now, he walked back to his car.

Chapter Seven

Peter had spent the morning sleeping and the afternoon focusing on important household chores like laundry and clearing the refrigerator of leftovers, most of which were growing tiny worlds of green and white fuzz. As usual, Scout was glued to his side the whole time he was in the kitchen; she was ever hopeful he’d drop some choice morsel, and when he did she was always there to hoover it up.

“Sorry, girl. This would make you feel sick.” He didn't need to apologize to his dog, but he couldn’t shake the habit.

He took the trash bag out to the can in the driveway, then spent half an hour sweeping. With two dogs and two cats, the pet hair piled up in corners at an alarming rate. He’d been embarrassed to show Dex his home for the first time, and even if they were leaving to go out to dinner right away, he was determined this time around the place would be reasonably clean. It wasn’t easy to sweep around the dogs and cats. Ophelia and her daughter, the unfortunately named Oreo who had been asleep when Dex visited, had mixed feelings about the broom. They were afraid of it, but also seemed reluctant to leave its presence, maybe on the off chance they might be able to attack it when it was lying unsuspecting on the floor.

Once he’d finished doing the most he could in a few hours’ time, he took a quick shower, then combed a little product through his curls with damp fingers, hoping it would tame the craziness. It wouldn’t—it never did—but it was worth a shot.

The knock on the door was preceded by footsteps that made Scout bark a warning. “No,” he told her. “Quiet. That’s rude.”

Seeing Dex, tall, broad shouldered, smelling deliciously clean and fresh made him smile. It was a simple reaction, but it told him how much the man meant to him. The smile had been involuntary, a physical reaction to the happiness welling up.

“Now that’s a nice smile. Got anything to go with it?”

He nodded, mute, and stepped out to greet Dex with a kiss, wishing a moment later he’d brought Dex inside instead of joining him on the porch because the kiss was enough to have him tingling with arousal.

Insta-lust; just add Dex.

“Sweet.” Dex pulled back and cupped Peter’s face. “You make me hungry. And don’t even mention food because that’s not what I’m craving.”

“We can’t—” Peter reconsidered. They could. No table booked, no one waiting for them. They could go inside, strip, fuck, and go out to eat later. But something about giving into impulse frightened him. He didn’t want to be so easily swayed by sex. He shook his head. “I’m starving. I want to eat.”

“So you want to make me wait?” Dex hummed, catching his lower lip between his teeth. “I’m changing my mind about you being adorable. Totally evil and cruel is more like it. But fine, let’s eat.”

They pretended to argue about where to go, then ended up at Peter’s favorite place when he admitted that’s what it was. “We don’t have to,” he said for the third time as they were walking into Marigold.

“Sure we do,” Dex said. “It’s your favorite. Gotta make a good impression on our first date.” He hesitated in the entryway, enough that Peter bumped into him. “Unless you’re realizing people who know you are going to see you here? With me?” It seemed to trouble him, so Peter was quick to reply.

“No! It’s not that. I’m happy to be seen with you.”

Mollified, Dex squeezed his hand briefly, a warm caress that awakened the slow burn of arousal. “Ditto.”

Marigold was a casual restaurant that delivered meals to him often both at work and home, but Peter didn’t eat there in person much. He didn’t like to eat out alone, and his work schedule meant that his closest friends were his colleagues. It did mean he was well versed in the menu and instead of deciding what he wanted he could study Dex, chin propped in one hand.

“Chicken and waffles sounds good.” Dex’s nose wrinkled adorably as he considered his options. “I’m not usually much of a carbs guy, but never say never, right?”

“As a carbs guy, I can recommend them. But if you’re looking for something high in protein, there’s a cuban one of the vet techs at work likes a lot.”

“Now you’re talking. Maybe I’ll go for the chicken next time.”

Next time. That had a pleasant ring to it, a casual certainty of shared meals in the future.

They ordered, then settled in to wait, Dex sipping at his water with an abstracted air Peter found intriguing and worrying in equal measure.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked eventually.

“Huh? Oh, you mostly.”

“Well, I’m right here,” Peter pointed out.

Dex smiled at him, slow and devastatingly sweet. “That hasn’t passed me by. I know you are. What I don’t know is how I got so lucky.”

Peter squirmed in his seat, wriggling like a petted pup before he caught himself and stopped. Jesus, was he that desperate for praise and appreciation? Clearly, the answer to that was a resounding yes. “That’s nice, but I don’t—can we change the subject?”

“Sure. To what? Anything on your mind? Or do you want to keep it shallow?” He gestured, sweeping his hand over an imaginary flat surface. “You know; weather, sports, favorite TV show.”

“No.” They’d progressed beyond that level of triviality, or at least he thought they had. It wasn’t the sex that’d done it; they’d clicked from minute one, skipping over the usual getting to know each other routine. “Work. There’s a decision I need to make and I’ve put it off too long. I’d appreciate your input, though I can’t promise I’ll go the way you suggest.”

Dex rolled his broad shoulders as if preparing to lift a weight. What would he be like in a gym, working out, pumped and sweating? Peter’s mind blanked out, overloaded by sheer lust for a moment. “Happy to help, but I’ve never run a business and Tank’s my first pet, so I’m not sure how much use I’d be.”

“You remember that vet at my work you and Elliot saw when you brought Bailey in that time?”

“Sure. I mean, not his name, but I remember him. You said there were the three of you when it came to veterinarians.”

Peter nodded. “Fer—um, that’s Dr. Fitzgerald’s nickname, it’s short for Jennifer—is talking about retiring. She’d do it now if we had someone lined up to buy her out, but she started the place and she’s attached to it. She doesn’t want to sell to anyone who doesn't meet her standards, and at the moment’s Stefan’s at the top of her list.”

“And your decision’s whether or not to say yes?”

“That's it.” He sighed. “If he didn’t have the money, I wouldn’t be in this spot. His dad died last year and left him a lot of cash, and he’s ready to invest it. Our other option’s a young woman, right out of vet school. She’d have to get a huge loan and Fer thinks it’d be easier to go with the least complicated choice.”

Dex set his glass down again and frowned. “You don’t like him.”

“It’s not that—” Peter started to protest, then cut himself off. “Well, I guess it is. He’s fine to work with ninety percent of the time. Cleans up after himself, great in surgery, keeps up with paperwork, self-educates about new techniques. It seems ungrateful to complain.”

“Those are the pros,” Dex said. “What are the cons?”

“You met him. Did you like him?”

“Not a lot,” Dex admitted. “And Bailey wasn’t all that comfortable with him, either.”

“Some of the animals don’t react well to Stefan. Well, there was this one hamster that peed on him and her owner said it was a sign of affection, but I have my doubts.”

It was heartening to see Dex dissolve into giggles. Peter didn’t make jokes often; his sense of humor was a valued part of him, but not everyone got it, leaving him unwilling to share and listen to crickets.

“Don’t ask me to show my love hamster style,” Dex choked out. “Not that kind of kinky.” He wiped his watering eyes. “Though if I laugh any more, I might pee my pants.”

“It wasn’t that funny,” Peter said, grinning himself.

“Sometimes it doesn’t have to be. I crack up and can’t stop.” Dex heaved a giant breath, then gulped water. “Okay. Serious now. So how does he feel about animals?”

“He doesn’t have pets. That’s unusual for a vet. And he sees them as…” Peter searched for the correct word. “Things that need fixing. Not living creatures with emotions, but faulty machines. And he’s good at mending them, don’t get me wrong, but there’s zero empathy and that matters too.”

“It matters to me,” Dex assured him.

Their server came back with their meals, interrupting the conversation. After his hard work housecleaning, Peter was starving, but he’d limited himself to a salad with some shrimp, knowing it came with a side of garlic bread he wouldn’t eat. Garlic breath? No way, not when he was hoping they’d go back to his place after dinner for the proverbial nightcap.

Dex had ordered a burger with a side of sweet potato fries. Peter knew how good those fries were and for a moment he looked at them longingly. Dex caught him at it and picked one up between two fingers, then leaned across the table offering it to him. “Do me a favor and help me with some of these?”

He let Dex feed him the fry, which was hot and crunchy and delicious. “Mm, thanks. Somehow I’m not seeing how that was doing you a favor, though.”

“You want me to admit I like watching your mouth? Because I do.” Dex kept his voice low so he couldn’t be overheard, but Peter found it hard to believe anyone watching them wouldn’t see there was some serious flirting going on. Did their fellow diners wonder what Dex saw in him? No, he wouldn't focus on that train of thought anymore.

He was sure he was blushing, though. His cheeks felt hot as he picked up his fork and stabbed a shrimp and some of the lettuce it was sitting on.

“Sorry,” Dex said. “When I cross a line, it’s okay to tell me.”

“You didn’t. I’m not used to it, that’s all. It’s not because there’s anything wrong. It’s nice.”

“Nice,” Dex repeated. “Huh. Not a word I get applied to me often.”

Exhilarated by the chance to flirt, Peter leaned in, bringing them close enough to kiss. Not that he planned to. The eatery wasn’t a candle-lit restaurant oozing ambience and romance. “Yeah? So what do people say about you?”

Dex shrugged. “Musclebound hulk in a dead end job.”

“What?” Peter jerked back as if he’d touched fire, shocked by the matter-of-fact reply. No bitterness there, as if Dex had long since accepted that assessment. “That’s bullshit. You exercise, yes, but not to excess. You can cross your arms. Some guys I’ve seen are so bulked up that’s physically impossible. And as for your job, I can’t see why anyone would call construction dead end. You’re part of making this city grow, providing safe, beautiful spaces for people to live or work in.”

Dex drew a finger between Peter’s eyebrows down to the bridge of his nose. “No rose-colored glasses. Sweet.”

Peter scowled at him. “Not sweet. Accurate. Now eat. And leave room for dessert.”

“Why? What’s on the menu?”

Oh, that was too easy. Peter tapped his chest. “Me.”

Dex smiled. “Promises, promises. Last time you left me high and—okay, not dry, but in the shower.”

“Because things with Elliot are complicated.” Peter cared about being fair, so he had to add that, but it was important to acknowledge that what Dex had said was true, too. “As long as I’m sure he’s on board, I’m okay with whatever you want.”

“Again I say, promises, promises.” Dex waggled an eyebrow and took a huge bite of his burger like he was focused on making the meal as quick as possible.

Peter concentrated on his salad for a few minutes, thinking about whether it would be weird to call Elliot out of the blue to make sure if sleeping with his not-boyfriend was okay. He decided it would be. “Do you think he’s home?”

“Elliot? Probably. He has work tomorrow. You want to swing by there?”

“I know on the one hand it’s kind of strange, but on the other calling or texting seems worse. It’s so impersonal.”

“It doesn’t have to be, but I get what you’re saying, and if you need him to spell it out, I get that, too.”

The depth of Dex’s understanding made Peter feel safe with him. It steadied his nerves and left him eager for what was to come. “We could ask if he wanted to join us.”

The reluctance in his voice showed and Dex smiled wryly. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen. You enjoyed it once, but I’m not sure you want ice cream for every meal, if you know what I mean.”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t mind doing it again, but I want it to be you and me tonight. Or if not tonight at least once.”

“Not you and Elliot?” Dex asked.

The idea appealed to his cock but not his heart. He shook his head. “But if you two want to, well, that’s okay. Obviously. I mean, you don’t have to clear it with me. It’s nothing to do with—No, that’s not true. It’s nothing I have a right to—” He gave up. Explaining his feelings when they weren’t clear to him was a challenge he couldn’t face.

Dex studied him, sighed, then signalled to the waiter. “Let’s make tracks before you talk yourself out of this relationship altogether.”

Hearing it referred to as a ‘relationship’ made Peter smile; having Dex snatch the check from the table before he could reach it made him smile more. It wasn’t that he had a deep need to be taken care of, but right now he was enjoying pretending that he did, and more than he would have expected. Crossing the restaurant to the front door with Dex’s hand at the small of his back, he felt lighter than air. Every inch of his body craved Dex’s touch, and he’d have to wait for it.

The anticipation was amazing.

They drove over to Elliot’s house without discussing what they would say when they arrived. Peter was willing to let Dex do the talking. The last thing he wanted was to drive a wedge between the two of them. If Elliot showed the slightest sign of resenting them… God, how could he not? Dex was his boyfriend, casual or not. They were a couple.

Deciding to walk away from the situation sooner than hurt anyone, he pushed his guilt aside.

Borrowing trouble, that was all it was. And if Elliot wanted to be included, well, it wasn't how he'd planned the night to go, but it wouldn't be the end of the world.

“Car’s in the driveway,” Dex said, getting out. “And that’s Luis’s ride. Weird. He’s supposed to be home with Tank tonight.”

"Maybe he brought Tank with him?" Moving the dog too much wasn't a great idea, but Peter didn't share that thought.

"Don't see why he'd put Tank through the stress of a car ride."

They went onto the porch, the steps in need of painting, though common sense put that task last on the list, after the renovations were over. When he’d been here before, Peter had been too wound up to notice details like that. Tonight, it was the opposite. Stress and desire combined to make everything sharply delineated, from the dusting of pollen on a railing, to a splash of green paint, sun-faded, on the arm of a rickety chair shoved into a corner of the porch.

Dex rang the doorbell, then moved to peer in through the window when no one answered, snooping with the ease of someone who knew he didn't count as a stranger. Peter filed away the realization Dex didn’t have a key. That seemed to bear out the casualness of his relationship with Elliot, though Peter told himself not to make too much of it. Truth was, he wanted Dex to be a free agent, but he couldn’t accept it as true. Too good to be true usually was.

Dex stepped back, stumbling as if someone had struck him.

Concerned, Peter reached out a steadying hand. “Did you hurt yourself?” He couldn’t see how Dex could have, but something had caused the jerk away.

“No.” Dex's voice and expression were stone hard, ice cold. "But I might hurt someone else." Ignoring Peter's frantic questions, and he had plenty, Dex pounded his fist on the door. "Luis! Get your fucking ass out here. Now!"

"You have to tell me—"

The door opened, revealing Elliot and Luis, standing close.

“Any interest in explaining what’s going on?” Dex asked.

“We were, um…” Elliot swallowed. “Come in and let me explain.”

“You mean you don’t want to do it out here on the porch where your neighbors can hear?” Dex’s voice rose to a shout and Luis stepped into the doorway. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Dex snarled.

Luis held his hands up. “I won’t. Come inside.”

“If I do, I might punch you. Hell, I might punch both of you. How long has this been going on?”

Disturbed, confused, Peter held his ground, respecting Dex’s rage without fully comprehending the cause. Then details seeped in. Mussed hair on the two crowding the doorway, flushed faces, the dark bruise of a kiss stark against Elliot’s neck. And their jeans were zipped, but the top buttons were unfastened.

Oh.

He couldn’t feel betrayed by Elliot personally. Their relationship didn’t stretch to cover it. On Dex’s behalf, though, he could and did feel pissed as hell. And, yeah, maybe there was some hurt there. His last boyfriend had screwed around on him too; was it his fate to be surrounded by cheaters? If so, it sucked.

“We’re not discussing it out here and if you throw a punch, Tank will freak,” Luis said.

“You brought him with you?” Dex demanded. “You know he’s supposed to stay quiet until he heals.”

“He’s fine. Now are you coming in or not?”

A sticky, charged silence was broken by Dex’s curt grunt of agreement and Peter found himself back inside Elliot’s house, but with none of the anticipation of his previous visit.

They went into the family room, Bailey on the couch, Tank, crated, in a corner, both dogs barking a muted welcome that changed to confused whines when they were ignored.

Standing tall, arms crossed, hands gripping his biceps as if to keep from lashing out, Dex said, “So I’ll ask again and I don’t care who answers as long as I get the truth. How long?”

“Does it matter?” Luis asked.

“If it didn’t, I _wouldn’t ask_.”

“Since the night Tank got hit by that car, okay?” Elliot spat it out like poison he’d sucked from a snakebite. He looked ashamed and relieved as soon as the words passed his lips. “You blamed me for what happened—and I get that, even though I still don’t think I did anything wrong, because that gate was latched, I’d swear it on my life—and then you put Tank in the Jeep and left me there.”

Dex hadn’t moved. “My dog was dying. If I hadn’t gotten him to Peter when I did, he would have. Are you seriously blaming me for you fucking my roommate?”

“No! No.” Sinking down onto the edge of the couch, Elliot dropped his head down into his hands. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

Peter watched Dex’s face as his expression shifted from anger to hurt. “Why didn’t you _tell me_?”

“Because I wanted to pretend it didn’t happen.” Elliot sighed and leaned back. “I was upset. Luis was trying to help. Neither of us thought it would go where it went. It was an accident.”

“Oh, so your dick accidentally slipped into his asshole?” Dex directed this at Luis; it was clear to Peter that anger was flaring up again. “I’m sure that helped a lot.”

“It helped Elliot.” Luis was calm, unflurried. “And since it’s the truth you want, I’d had my eye on him for months. From the first time I saw him, but you move fast, buddy, and I didn’t want to poach. Before you roll your eyes, hear me out. I watched you cool on him. Don’t deny it. You were a fuck away from finishing with him. Then _he_ came along.” A jerk of his head brought Peter into the discussion.

Heart thudding wildly, Peter waited for Luis to continue, but Dex spoke first. “Leave him out of it.”

“Why?” Luis countered. “_You_ didn’t. You bullied Elliot into a threesome by taking advantage of his guilt—didn’t you learn your lesson with Rory, you greedy fuck?—so you could have your cake and eat it. _You_ made him part of it. And that ends now. Elliot’s mine and you can have Peter. Over with. Done.”

“The hell it is!” Dex flung himself on Luis, bearing him to the ground with a growl, then drawing back his fist, preparing to punch.

Peter didn’t think about moving, not consciously. He blinked and the next thing he knew his hands were on Dex’s shoulder and wrist trying to pull him away. Not that he was able to on his own—Dex was twice as strong as he was—but somehow with Elliot’s help they were able to tug Dex away. Dex struggled, his elbow banging painfully into Peter’s chest by accident and then, purposefully, into Elliot’s ribs, making him grunt.

Luis scrambled away and got up, panting. “If you need to hit me, fucking do it, but don’t involve the two of them!”

“They involved themselves.” Dex shoved Elliot away from him and shook off Peter’s grip more gently. “You think because Elliot and I had a hard time over the Tank thing that’s your excuse to push your way in between us?” He glanced at Tank, who was quiet in his kennel but watching the scene with worried eyes. He was used to them roughhousing, Peter guessed, but the crackle of hostility was new and scary.

“It’s my fault,” Elliot repeated. “Not Luis’s. Don’t blame him. I’m a grown man, not a toy the two of you are fighting over.” His frustration clearly included Luis and that seemed to make Dex feel better.

“You agreed to the thing with Peter. I didn’t force you into it.”

“I wasn’t ready for things to be over between us.” Elliot spoke quietly, hands at his sides. “You didn’t force me, but I didn’t feel like I had a lot of choice in the matter. Not if I wanted more time with you.”

“That wasn’t—” Dex shook his head, a bull tormented by flies. “I never meant it to be an ultimatum or something you couldn’t turn down. I wanted…”

“You wanted Peter without losing me.” Elliot shrugged. “Well, you got him, but I’m not interested in sharing you.” He looked at Peter. “Sorry. Not blaming you. And it was fun, it was, but I’m not into you enough to carry it on.” He gave Dex a glare. “And I’m not into being a pity fuck with a guy too gutless to tell me he’s moved on.”

“It was never like that. We were casual and that was understood.”

“Things changed.” Elliot stepped back and slid his hand into Luis’s. “So we end it here. You walk away with Peter. Luis and I see if what we’ve got is real or a fling.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Dex stabbed a finger at them, trembling with what Peter guessed was anger not grief. Dex was simmering with emotion, ready to blow. The stress of watching him suffer and friendships shatter made Peter’s gut twist. He hated seeing it, hated being even a peripheral cause. He wasn’t worth it. The obligation it placed on him was too heavy. Jumbled thoughts bounced around in his head, jabbering at him, until he wanted to scream and drown out their clamor.

Dex continued, “Nothing I ever did was behind your back. Ever. How come I didn’t rate that much honesty from the two of you?”

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. And then I kept reminding myself how you went on and on about how we weren’t in a relationship, neither of us wanted more, so I figured maybe I didn’t owe you anything. I mean, you’re allowed to go out with other people and I’m not? How is that fair?”

“It’s fair because I told you about Peter. You knew. If you didn’t want me to see him, you could have said something.”

Elliot shook his head. “We both know it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“We’re going around in circles now,” Luis said. “Let’s take a break. Talk about it tomorrow.”

“I’m not gonna want to talk about it tomorrow,” Dex snapped. “Or maybe ever.”

“That’ll get awkward fast when we’re having breakfast,” Luis pointed out.

“Not for me. I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

“For good? Are you serious?” Elliot sounded exasperated. “You’ve been roommates for years, and you made it perfectly clear you weren’t in love with me, that we were friends. You’re going to walk away from Luis because we discovered we have a mutual thing for each other?”

Dex looked at Tank again. “Long term? I don’t know. I’m sure as hell not walking away from the dog. Can you keep him for a couple of days? Until I figure out where I’m going?”

“Sure. Or Shannon can take him. You know I’ll make sure he’s safe and well cared for.”

“Okay.” Dex swallowed. “Yeah, that’s what matters. Are you coming?” It was the first time he’d directed his attention toward Peter.

“Of course.” He’d wait to offer to drive until they were outside in the driveway. He knew if he asked now, in front of the other two, Dex would say no.

Without acknowledging Elliot's muttered farewell, Dex walked out, taking quick, long steps, as if he couldn’t wait to put some space between himself and two men he’d been close to. With a sense of committing himself, though to what he wasn’t sure, Peter followed him, uneasily aware he’d been a passive observer for the most part. Dex overwhelmed him and he loved it in certain situations, relished it even, but that didn’t mean he intended to roll over and show his belly as a regular event.

Outside, one look at Dex told him tonight wasn’t the time to assert himself. Fuming, muttering curses under his breath, Dex stalked to the Jeep, footsteps heavy enough to qualify as stamps. Crushing his enemies like ants? Peter bit back an inappropriate chuckle. If he released it, a chuckle would turn to hysteria.

“Let me drive,” he said instead.

Dex threw him a glance, frowning. “Why? I’m not drunk.”

“No, but you’re upset. Let me. Please.”

He went for persuasive, even appealing, counting on Dex’s innate protectiveness to sway the balance. After a moment, Dex nodded and tossed him the keys, sending them flying in an arc, slow enough to make it an easy catch.

Peter raised his hand and grabbed them with a jangle of metal. “Thanks. Where to?”

“I don’t know. Your place? No. Back to my—to Luis’s house, while those two are still in there. I’ll pack the essentials and crash with Shannon and Rory for a while.”

“Okay.” He’d won on the driving issue; no point in pushing his luck. It made more sense to go along with whatever Dex needed, assuming it wasn’t totally unreasonable. He considered suggesting that Dex stay at his place, but that was a terrible idea for multiple reasons no matter how tempting it was to imagine.

They climbed into the Jeep and headed for Luis’s house, Peter following Dex’s tersely delivered directions, though he knew the way.

Let Dex have control of the journey at least, even if the rest of his life was in flux.

Chapter Eight

Dex was mad at everyone.

He was mad at Elliot for what had happened to Tank—as much as he wished he’d been able to forgive him, or stop blaming him, he hadn’t been—and for what had happened with Luis. It didn’t matter that they’d agreed what was between them was only casual; he’d still expected Elliot to give him a heads up if he decided to sleep with someone else, especially if that someone was his roommate.

He was mad at Luis. They’d lived together for years, known each other even longer. Simple respect meant he’d deserved better than the two of them sneaking around behind his back. Hell, if they’d admitted it right off the bat, after the first time it happened, he’d have been understanding. Probably.

Worst of all, he was mad at himself. He wasn’t sure why all of this had played out the way it had, but deep down he suspected it was partly his fault.

The one person he wasn’t mad at was Peter. “Thanks,” he said, because it was the right thing to do and because he needed to wrench himself out of the spiral his mind was curling up into.

“For driving? It’s no problem.”

“For all of it. For being here.” He wasn’t likely to go further when it came to opening up and sharing, that wasn’t his style, but something was better than nothing.

“Where else would I be?” Peter reached across blindly, gaze on the road, and grabbed Dex’s hand. “I’m beyond sorry for everything you’re going through. I hate scenes and drama and that back there was a nightmare.”

“I didn’t help by attacking Luis.”

If he’d expected reassurances, he was doomed to disappointment. The glance flashed at him held reproach. “No. I wish you hadn’t. I guess I understand the impulse, but you’re old enough to know better.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I’m serious.” Peter sucked in a breath. “You’re a big guy, Dex. Scary strong. You could hurt someone without meaning to. You could—”

He knew what came next. “No! Never.”

“How can I be sure of that? You would’ve said the same to Luis a month ago.”

Frustration surged, needing an outlet. If there’d been a wall, a nice, solid wall, incapable of having its feelings hurt or its bricks bruised, he would’ve driven his fist against it.

But didn’t that prove Peter right? Was he that guy, the one who lashed out and expected his bad mood to excuse his actions? He didn’t want to think so. But God, did he need to bleed off his foul temper before he went boom and took out half a block.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. I need to go to the gym.”

“What?” Peter glanced at him. “It’s after nine.”

“They’re open.” Now that the idea was in his head, Dex could imagine how much better he’d feel after a hard run on the treadmill and some heavy lifting. “I don’t need more than an hour, but sometimes adrenaline needs to be redirected, you know?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” They pulled into the driveway and Peter shut off the engine, handing Dex the keys. “What can I do now?”

“Come inside with me while I grab some things, then come with me to the gym.” It was an impulsive offer, but being alone didn’t appeal to him. “Keep me company.”

Peter nodded as they walked toward the house. “That’s about all I’ll be good for.”

As much as he hated hearing Peter put himself down, Dex didn’t have the energy to bolster his self esteem. With the house empty, it didn’t take more than five minutes for him to shove the basics into a couple of bags and grab the duffel he kept packed and ready for spontaneous trips to the gym. “I have some extra clothes you can borrow,” he told Peter as he came down the stairs.

“What happened to ‘keeping you company?’”

“Everyone needs a workout buddy.”

“Yeah?” Peter gave him a quizzical smile. “So who am I standing in for?”

“Any number of people. I’ve got a lot of friends there and if it’s quiet one of the employees would spot me. I don’t always ask. Lifting weights solo is dangerous if you’re inexperienced, but I know my limits and I don’t push them without someone there to grab the bar.”

“I’m not strong enough for that.”

Dex yanked at the front door, needing to get out of what felt like enemy territory. “You wouldn’t need to take the whole weight and I’ve seen you naked. You’re sturdy. I bet you lift large dogs onto the table without thinking twice.”

‘Well, yes, but…” Peter shrugged, following him back out to the Jeep. “That’s work.”

“And this is play. Let’s go.” Dex climbed in and turned the key, enjoying the roar as the engine came to life, energized by the prospect of burning off some rage in an acceptable way.

“A new definition of it for me,” Peter muttered, fastening his seatbelt.

“You said you wanted to firm up. Call this day one. And if you wanted to make an appointment with Rory, he's easy to talk to.”

“I’m not ready—” Peter broke off. “God, listen to me! I get like this sometimes, all negative and scared to try something new. It’s ridiculous.” With a full-body shake, reminding Dex of Tank emerging from a pond and shedding water, Peter visibly threw off his doubts. “New me. Day one. Well, night one. Got it.”

Dex might like Peter the way he was, but the idea of him being open to trying something new was attractive on multiple levels. It didn’t take long to drive over to the gym, which was in a local strip mall, many machines lined up along the wall of windows. Most of them were empty, Dex noted, but the place wasn’t totally deserted. He grabbed his duffel bag and nodded at the new girl behind the counter as they went in. He’d only seen her half a dozen times and didn’t bother to glance at her name tag to remind himself who she was. After years as one of the gym’s oldest members, he knew the routine. Either she’d stick around, which meant he’d learn her name soon enough, or, more likely, she’d be gone in a few months’ time. That was how things went.

He led Peter back to the locker room, threw him an extra pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and changed into his workout clothes.

“No sneakers,” Peter said, looking down at his footwear in mild dismay as Dex sat on the bench to tie the pair he kept in his locker.

“Those’ll be fine. They might be meant for hiking, but they’re lightweight enough. And it’s not as if they’re falling apart.”

“No, but the pair they replaced were. I hiked a trail and the sole came partway off one of them. Did three miles with it flapping like Tank’s tongue when treat time came around.”

“You have treat time at your place?” Dex laughed. “You spoiled my dog?”

“They need some spoiling. It’s stressful for them being away—Oh. You were joking.”

“Yeah, but I love that you do it.”

“Stefan says it’s a waste of time and money and encourages obesity and begging.”

“Stefan can jump in a deep muddy hole filled with fire ants as far as I’m concerned.” Dex paused, then added, “Naked and covered in honey.”

“You’re terrible.” It wasn’t a convincing rebuke with a grin tugging Peter’s mouth into a kissable shape.

Dex wanted to give into temptation and steal that kiss, but underneath the surface he was still full of frustrated anger, and he didn’t want that emotion between them. “Come on.”

He led Peter out to the section where the treadmills were and showed him how to use one, putting it on a pace no more than a brisk walk. Then he got onto a machine, programmed in the most challenging interval training he used, and got to work.

Thirty minutes of pyramid intervals that topped out at a seven-minute mile had him sweating halfway through, lungs burning and his eyes stinging from the salt. He was aware of Peter watching him throughout his walk, but didn’t allow himself to be distracted. One wrong move at this speed and he could fuck up an ankle or worse, plus the point of this run was to bleed out some of his anger, not anything more literal.

The program included a cool down period but he was still breathing heavily by the time it ended. Peter, who had figured out how to slow his treadmill, stepped off onto the floor. “That was intense,” he commented.

“That’s the point,” Dex said, wiping sweat from his temple with the back of one hand. “There’s a water cooler over there if you want a drink.”

“Maybe later. Unless you want one?”

“I will, but not yet.” Hydration was important, but he craved the intensity of the workout and he didn’t want to lose this high.

“I can see your heart beating.” Peter stretched out his hand, then paused, leaving it hovering. “You’re—God, you’re hot like this.”

The naked desire in his eyes made Dex want to grab him and get physical, but he directed his lust into different channels. Waiting sweetened the reward and he couldn’t bend Peter over the nearest piece of equipment, not when their privacy could be invaded anytime.

And he’d forgotten Peter didn’t like being fucked again. That took some getting used to. How content would he be with a partner who didn’t switch? A worry for another day.

“Literally. So sweat’s a turn on for you?”

To his surprise, Peter sniffed the air as if testing his reaction to the musk pouring off Dex. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t want to lick you, but you smell good and I get off on how strong you are. Don’t know why.”

Feeling his way, Dex asked, “You go for the caveman type, huh?”

“No, not usually.” Peter frowned. “It’s you, I think. I go for you and so whatever comes along with you works for me.” He shrugged, dismissing the subject, and wandered over to a bench designed for leg curls. “This equipment belongs in a kinky dungeon. All the steel and black leather would fit in beautifully.”

“Let me show you how it works. It’d be a shame not to provide that imagination of yours with some fodder.”

Dex worked his way through a few of the machines, demonstrating leg curls, the lat pulldown, and one of his favorites, the shoulder press. His breathing had slowed, so he took the opportunity to challenge himself with more plates than he’d been using recently. He liked the way it felt to strain to lift something heavy, but more than that he liked the weight of Peter’s gaze on him.

“One more and we’ll call it a night,” he said, stretching as he moved to the hip abduction/adduction machine.

He’d have been lying if he claimed choosing that machine was anything but deliberate. After years at the gym, he knew it was one of the machines he watched other men use, and he’d caught guys eying him using it a dozen times or more too. The delineation of muscles, especially in the inner thigh, could be mesmerizing, and Dex wanted to mesmerize Peter. Wanted to see the moment when realization dawned on his face that Dex’s cock was hardening under his thin nylon shorts.

That moment came; the machine’s plates spread Dex’s thighs wide, fabric pulled tight over his erection, and Peter’s gaze went there, then to Dex’s face when he paused, waiting. No one was nearby so Dex risked a quick adjustment of his cock. “Want to get out of here?” he asked.

Peter nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, and Dex would have been willing to bet any amount of money that he was turned on as hell even if any evidence of it was hidden under his borrowed shorts.

After the most cursory spray and wipe Dex remembered giving a machine, they headed for the locker room, side by side, not touching. The heat simmering between them was too explosive a mixture. Dex was aware of every breath Peter took, every movement, desperate to get his hands on a body he’d seen strive valiantly. Peter’s arms had shaken when he forced them to do one more set, groans ripped from him by exertion, but he’d refused to quit. Dex’s kind of guy.

“Place is quiet,” Peter commented, voice tight.

“Shouldn’t be.” Dex used the distraction of the conversation to tamp down on his ardor. “Should be humming. They don’t promote it enough or offer the bells and whistles that get people in around the clock.”

“Instead we’ve got it all to ourselves.”

The locker room was empty, no voices filtering in from the reception area, no one in the showers or the sauna.

“Yeah, we do.” Dex swung around, crowding Peter against a wall, lockers to their left, the wall of the sauna on their right. Trapped in the small alcove, Peter could’ve escaped easily by pushing Dex aside, but Dex wasn’t moving and neither was his prey.

“You want strong?” He kept his voice soft, but nothing else about him was. His cock throbbed, balls a vicious ache of need. “You’ve got me. Now tell me what else you want so I can give it to you. All of it, Peter. Tell me and it’s yours.”

“I want to fuck you.” Peter raised his chin, giving as good as he got. “Not here, not for the first time, but God, I want to.”

Dex slid his hand down along Peter’s body to his dick and gave it a gentle squeeze. “This right here? You gonna shove it into me?”

Shaking his head, Peter, pupils wide, managed, “No. I’m gonna take my time. Get you all slicked up and ready for me. Then I’m... I’m going to slide into you, open you up so slow you’ll be begging me to hurry.”

Fuck. Hearing Peter say that out loud was the hottest thing ever. Dex pressed in, pinning Peter in place with the strength of his body, and kissed him. It wasn’t slow and it wasn’t careful; this was a clash of mouths, teeth cracking against each other more roughly than he’d intended, lips too dry. Didn’t matter, it still felt amazing. Nothing could have stopped Dex from rubbing his erection against Peter’s through the layers of their clothes, not when he was so turned on, not when he heard the low groan that moved from Peter’s mouth into his.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he muttered. He scraped his teeth along the line of Peter’s jaw to his ear and bit his lobe, careful, gentle. Hold back. Don’t overdo it.

Peter’s hands clutched at Dex’s shirt, pulling it tight along his torso. “Where can we go?”

“Back—back to—your place?” Dex could barely think, but he didn’t need to think about how to move his lower body; it knew what to do all on its own.

“What?” Peter sounded wrenched to reality, which was definitely not what Dex had intended. “No, I meant here. You don’t seriously think I could wait that long, do you?”

“Oh.” Dex recognized the shuddering sigh of relief as coming from him, but it sure as hell didn’t sound like him, so needy, so hurting. “Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

“I do.” Peter wet his lips. “Anywhere with a door we can lock? Won’t take long. Get us off fast, then we go home and I’ll show you slow.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Nodding as if Peter needed the gesture as well as the words, Dex drew him out of the alcove and over to the sauna, not letting go, kissing him as they staggered across the tiled floor, unwilling to lose Peter’s mouth on his for the sake of speed.

They paused to take off their shoes and socks, the simple task taking way too fucking long in Dex’s opinion, but necessary, then stripped, scattering their clothes on the floor. No one would mind them being naked in the locker room in the unlikely event someone walked in. Their stiff pricks might raise eyebrows though.

The sauna was a small, windowless cedar box with two levels of seating, but the steam was turned off, residual heat making the space uncomfortably warm, but bearable. The door had a simple latch on the inside, but Dex was willing to take the risk. If someone saw them, what was the worst that could happen? If he lost his membership, he’d find another gym.

Once the door was closed, Dex could look his fill, touch, kiss, coax soft sounds from Peter, offer himself up for Peter to do the same. It was a heady freedom.

They couldn’t fuck, not without lubes or condoms, but Dex had been with a handful of guys who weren’t into penetrative sex at all. It didn’t mean there wasn’t plenty of fun to be had. He pushed Peter down to sit on the wooden bench and knelt between his thighs, then spread them wider with both hands.

“Gonna tease me?” Peter asked. His voice was unsteady, his talented fingers clutching one of the bench’s slats.

Dex shook his head. “Not my style. I was kind of thinking I’d go for it. That okay with you?”

“Yes. God, yes.” Peter moaned as Dex leaned in and licked the head of his cock once before taking it into his mouth.

He loved blow jobs. Giving, getting, it was all good. The stretch of his lips around a hard prick turned him on as much as having someone else’s wrapped around his. He took Peter’s deep, breathing through his nose, suppressing his gag reflex. The first time he’d tried easing a cock into his throat he’d come close to puking—so not sexy, especially because he’d been a seventeen-year-old kid trying to impress his older partner—but he’d figured out pretty quickly how to get around that. It was mind over matter, and worth it to hear his talents praised in rapturous whispers like the ones escaping Peter now.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking—amazing, yeah, oh my God I’m gonna…”

Peter had some self-control, though, because he didn’t come, somehow managing to hold off well past the point anyone Dex had done this to before had reached. He’d have worried he was doing something wrong, or not doing something right, if it hadn’t been for the steady stream of encouragement.

Maybe it was time to add a little something to the mix. Not without asking though. He’d screwed up with Elliot, not meaning to, but obviously he had. He didn’t intend to do the same with Peter.

With his hand replacing his mouth on Peter’s cock, sliding over the wet skin with his thumb flicking the head on the upstroke, he could talk. “You good with a finger up you?”

It wasn’t elegant or eloquent, but he wanted his mouth filled with cock, not words.

“Yeah.” God, how huge did Peter’s eyes look with the green shrunk to a thin line around dilated pupils? “Do it.”

Dex didn’t ask again. He shoved his middle finger into his mouth, slicking it lavishly, then bent his head. Cock lodged deep again, he sought out his target, Peter making it easy for him, moving forward, arching his hips, spreading wide.

Quick circle of the hole, then Dex pushed his finger in, not far, but he didn’t need to. That was where the nerves were, sensitive, responsive. The heavy softness of Peter’s balls had become tight, ripe for unloading, and his wrist brushed them as he finger-fucked that tight hole, burrowing his finger deeper when Peter cried out for more.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed sucking someone off so much. Except for the moments when he glanced upward toward Peter’s face, his view was limited to the curve of Peter’s belly, the indentation of his belly button, and the feathery line of pubic hair that tickled his nose.

Sight was a lot less important than his other senses right then anyway. Smell: Peter’s arousal, the scent of their sweat co-mingled, something faint like body wash, a hint of cedar.

Touch: Peter’s cock sliding across his tongue, the friction of his chin when it rasped against Peter’s groin, the exquisite softness of Peter’s hole where it clenched around his knuckle, and the solid press of the floor under his knees.

Taste: The salt of perspiration, the bittersweet of Peter’s pre-cum at the back of his tongue.

Sound: His wet mouth on Peter’s skin and, best of all, the sounds escaping Peter’s lips as Dex drove him closer and closer to release.

“Wish you could fuck me for real,” Peter gasped. “Put your big cock in me. God. Dex, I think—”

Whatever Peter was about to say was lost as orgasm overtook him. His body seized up, his thigh where Dex’s arm rested on it proving that any claim he was out of shape was a twisted fantasy. His cock throbbed in Dex’s mouth and Dex slid it an inch deeper into his throat. Peter made a sound he must have tried to muffle by biting down on his lip and convulsed, shooting his release in a series of strong pulses.

Dex swallowed as avidly as a dehydrated man with a glass of cool water at his lips. The transfer of fluid from Peter’s body to his seemed significant, as if it’d bound them together. Okay, now _that_ was a thought he’d never had with another guy. Peter brought out a sentimental side of him he didn’t know he had.

Abruptly, on the heels of his final swallow before the taste of cum was too faint to notice, Dex’s ignored arousal demanded attention. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, then grabbed his straining cock.

“No. Mine.”

Peter seemed definite about that so Dex, still kneeling, spread his knees and held his hands palm up, hiding nothing. “All yours, babe.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s eyes were hazy, his lips bitten soft and red. “Well, if that’s understood, go back to what you were doing. Want to watch you come.”

“Kinky fucker,” Dex said affectionately. He’d done this before, often, but never on command, or with his partner lounging over him, cock half-hard, glistening with spit and cum.

He worked himself in long strokes, gaze steadily on Peter’s face. A lock of Peter’s hair had fallen free of the rest of the tangle and stretched toward his right eyebrow, but that was a minor distraction when compared to the way his eyes kept straying from Dex’s face down to his cock.

“Like this, hm?” Dex asked. He wouldn’t last more than another minute, he didn’t think, not with the pleasure still naked on Peter’s face shining on him. “You ever told someone else to do this for you?”

Peter swallowed and shook his head. “No. Have you—ever?”

“Not like this.” He locked eyes with Peter and squeezed a little harder, stroked a little faster. “You want to see me come?”

“Yes. I said so, didn’t I?”

“Tell me to.” He was close, wishing Peter would reach out and grab hold of him. He wouldn’t need more than that; a touch and he’d come, orgasm shocked from him as easily as turning on a switch.

“You want…” Peter trailed off as he realized what Dex meant. He bit his lip again, then nodded. “Come for me.”

It took a few more strokes even with the sharp thrill the order gave him, but when he fell, he fell hard, vision graying, eyes squeezed shut as he shot, seemingly forever, his fingers tightening ruthlessly. He cried out, he heard it, but the pleasure coursing through his body overrode his senses. For a handful of heartbeats, he ceded control to his orgasm, knowing soon, too soon, that control would be back with him.

A thud and Peter was beside him, murmuring words Dex was too spaced out to process. He opened his eyes, blinked, and Peter kissed him, open-mouthed, passionate, warm. His hands were slick with cum, but they’d need to shower anyway, so Dex clung to Peter, returning the kiss, aftershocks racing through him. His balls were drained. He was a shell, a husk, but the kiss revived him.

“You—incredible—that was—never seen anything so fucking hot—God, I loved it.”

More kisses, Peter all but climbing into his lap. Dex nuzzled his neck, biting it gently. “Yeah, me too. But we need to shower before we end up stuck together.”

“Cum isn’t sticky.”

“No, but it dries flaky and that’s gross. Shower. Then…” He hesitated. Where was he spending the night?

“Come home with me.” Peter stroked a hand along his side. “I want you in my bed. Please?”

The request, worded as it was, did a lot to soothe Dex’s troubled mind, which had only been briefly quieted by their physical encounter. “Yeah.” He’d worry about the rest of it tomorrow.

They snuck out of the sauna and into the shower, pulled on the clothes they’d arrived in, and drove back to Peter’s house. All was dark in his neighbor’s side of the duplex as they crept onto the porch.

Peter paused to take a dog biscuit from a covered tin before unlocking the door. The beagle—Scout? Yeah, like _To Kill a Mockingbird_—barked as soon as she heard the key in the lock, but Peter skittered the biscuit in across the floor to her and she went silent, the only sound the crunching of her teeth as they went inside. “Bribery,” Peter said, with some guilt. “I hate to do it, but I don’t like her waking up Jackie when it’s this late. She puts up with enough already.”

The tiny old dog was there too, and Dex was aware of a cat watching warily from the shadows. Luis better be taking good care of Tank. Tomorrow, he’d talk to Shannon, see if he and Rory were willing to take on a human stray in addition to the recovering dog they’d been juggling.

“Put your stuff anywhere,” Peter said, kicking off his unlaced shoes and setting his keys on a table near the door. “Make yourself at home. Are you thirsty?”

He’d bought an energy drink from the vending machine at the gym, noting with irritation that it needed restocking, and drunk it on the ride over so he shook his head. Following Peter into the living room, he added, “Tired mostly. Been a hell of a night.”

Peter sat on the couch, leaving room for Dex to join him. The leather couch showed signs of being used as a scratching post, but Dex wasn’t one to judge. Tank had destroyed everything from remotes to table legs in his time. It was deep and soft, cushioning him, and that was what mattered. “Emotional blows hurt as much as physical ones.”

“Then I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with a heavyweight.”

“You can fix it.” Peter scrunched up his face. “Okay, stop me if you don’t want to talk about this. If I see a problem I tend to worry at it and I know it can be annoying.”

“I don’t mind talking, and you don’t annoy me, ever, but I don’t know what there is to talk about. Elliot and Luis screwed me over and I’m homeless. Temporarily. End of story.”

Peter put an arm around him and tugged him closer; Dex went along with it, glad for the comfort. “Maybe… do you think there’s a chance you…”

“Whatever it is, say it.”

“You might have cared about Elliot more than you realized?”

Dex sighed and rested his head on Peter’s shoulder. “I know that would make sense, but I don’t think that’s it. I’m not in denial or whatever. I wasn’t in love with him. But we were friends.” He didn’t usually open up and spill his guts like this, but somehow, with Peter, doing it was easier.

“So was it him that’s the worst part? Or Luis?”

“Hard to know. I’ve been friends with Luis a hell of a lot longer.” He’d never slept with Luis, though, and that did make a difference. Two people he’d believed were real friends fucking around behind his back made for a nasty sense of betrayal. “I’ve got questions. Did they talk about it?”

“About you, you mean. When they’d tell you, and how. Whether they should put a stop to it, walk away from each other rather than risk hurting you.” Peter brushed his lips against Dex’s temple as the little dog tottered over and looked up at them. “It’d be nice to think they had.”

“Nicer to think it’d meant talking each other out of doing it in the first place.” He was struggling so hard to be fair, to imagine what it would have been like if Peter had been the one Luis met first and how difficult it would have been to keep his distance, even if Luis and Peter had been casual fuck buddies.

“Yeah.” They were quiet for a few minutes, then the Chihuahua whined. “Okay, I’ve got to get these dogs settled for the night. You get ready for bed; I’ll be in in a minute.”

It wasn’t late but Dex craved a soft bed, darkness, and the chance to slip away from the mess his life had become. With Peter beside him, he’d sleep well, he knew it.

He wasn’t sure if Peter intended to redeem his promises of a slow fuck, but it didn’t matter. Once in bed, between sheets that held Peter’s scent, his eyelids drooped and when the bed creaked, shifting under Peter’s weight, he couldn’t do more than murmur a goodnight.

Chapter Nine

“Dex, you know you can stay here, but Rory and me, well, we’re not taking sides, okay?” Shannon scratched his cheek with one finger, face twisted as if the conversation was an ordeal. “We love you both. We want you to be friends again. But the spare room’s yours until you and Luis kiss and make up.”

“I’d sooner kiss Tank. With tongue.” Restless, as uncomfortable as Shannon, Dex prowled a kitchen that showcased the age of the house without turning it into a museum. The previous owner had poured money into refinishing the place, then sold it at a reasonable price to Rory and Shannon after it’d been on the market for months. For some reason, it hadn’t attracted buyers. Dex had watched a few shows on home renovation, mostly to sneer at the construction work, and he knew the current craze for open-plan made the house out of step. He loved it. Loved the wide archways leading into rooms, and the solid oak doors keeping some a mystery. Loved the whimsical turret and the practical modern heating and cooling. It was a lot of upkeep, but Rory adored fussing over it, finding gems in thrift stores or begging plant cuttings for the yard, a riot of color at the moment, with daffodils, tulips, and clouds of forget-me-nots filling the wide borders.

“We both know he’d take you up on that,” Shannon said. “Anyway, he can stay here the next couple of nights so you can take him to his follow up vet appointment. Luis figured everyone would be happier if that job didn’t fall on him.”

“Peter wouldn’t be anything but professional no matter what Luis was guilty of.” Dex didn’t say it in protest, but as a statement of fact. "But it doesn't apply. It's not an emergency so it's with Tank's regular vet."

“I’m sure that’s true. Peter, I mean. Luis is trying to do whatever will make you more comfortable, which is why I’m going over after work to pick up Tank and the crate.”

“From Elliot’s house?” God, why did he ask a question he didn’t want to know the answer to?

Shannon sighed as Rory came down the stairs, freshly showered. Dex had come over before work to get things ironed out and interrupted their morning routine in the process, apparently. “No, from your house.”

He wanted to protest that, to say that it was Luis’s house, not his, not anymore, but he knew that would be overly dramatic. It was the kind of thing Elliot would come out with, accompanied by a roll of his eyes if he was comfortable enough with the people nearby. But Dex wasn’t Elliot. Dex didn’t want to be Elliot, he didn’t even want Elliot. How had this gotten so fucked up? “Thanks,” he said instead, trying to focus on Shannon and Rory. “I appreciate you letting me stay here.”

“It’s not a problem.” Rory combed both hands through his hair, settling it into place. “Wow, I’m late. I’ve gotta run. See you for dinner?” He kissed Shannon, fast and hard.

“I won’t eat without you.”

“Eat something. Your blood sugar gets low and you get grouchy.” The last words were spoken over his shoulder, punctuated by the slam of the door.

“It doesn’t. I don’t. But he frets.” Shannon patted his stomach. “Got to keep in shape for my man.”

“Please. It’s too early for sap.”

“No, he’s right. It’s late. So get your ass in gear or we will be too.”

“My stuff’s in the Jeep.”

“Should’ve brought it in.”

“Didn’t want to assume.”

Shannon rapped him on the head with his knuckles. “Idiot. You’re family. There’s room for you.”

Dex suspected after a week that’d change to hints he find somewhere else to park his butt, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll unpack later. Let’s get going.”

“Wasn’t that what I said?” Shannon picked up a lunchbox from the island. Rory prepared them every day, making sure Shannon had tasty, filling snacks. Shannon had gotten some ribbing from the guys, but he wasn’t the kind of man who rose to the bait. For Shannon, it was a sign Rory loved and cared for him. Plus, from what Dex had seen, the food was to die for.

He could ask Rory to make double snacks while he was there, but that was pushing it.

They spent a long day on the job. Somehow the days leading from spring into summer were the worst; it was hard to adjust to the increasing temperature, and sometimes he spent all day outside in the sun. Dex had given up on sunblock for his bare scalp and used a large bandanna tied around his head to absorb the sweat. He had a collection of them and could tell by quitting time how miserable the conditions had been based on how many he’d soaked through.

He’d forgotten to pack them last night when he’d gotten his things from the house, so he only had one. Half an hour before five he gave up on it and dropped it into the dirt, too disgusted by how wet it was to leave it on his head another second.

“Bad day,” Shannon said as they packed up their things. He and Jude, Rory’s brother, had been working on a stone walkway most of the afternoon, and from where Dex was standing it didn’t look like they’d made much progress.

“The worst.”

“You can have the first shower if you want. So you don’t run out of hot water halfway through.” Shannon said it like he was bestowing a great favor upon Dex, who tried to sound grateful instead of like a zombie.

“Thanks.”

Shannon snorted. “I’m kidding. We had a tankless water heater installed before we even moved into the house. I can put up with a lot, but having a shower turn tepid in the middle? No way. We can shower at the same time. Different rooms, obviously.”

Dex wiped sweat from his brow with his wrist. “Obviously. I wasn’t planning on using any hot water at all; I was thinking about ice cold.”

For a big, bad biker, Shannon was a wimp. The shudder he gave was genuine, the look of horror Dex got over the top enough to make him grin. “That’s plain evil. It’s illegal. Showers are hot, man.”

“Shame you can’t play with your little rubber duckie in there too,” Dex said dryly.

Shannon smirked. “That’s not what I call it.”

“Oh, very funny. And thanks for the mental image I’ve got.”

That earned him an elbow in the ribs, a solid nudge that would’ve had some men staggering. “No thinking about me naked or you’re sleeping on the hammock.”

“You’ve got a hammock?” That sounded like a slice of heaven. A cool breeze playing over him, the night air full of quiet sounds, the stars glittering and sparkling an invitation to dive into the blue-blackness as if it lay beneath him not overhead. And bugs feasting on every inch of exposed skin, sure, but worth it.

“Yeah. Striped one, real soft. Rory had this idea of it swung under a tree with him in it reading. I put it up last weekend but it’s been raining so he hasn’t gotten the chance to use it. Going to make a big deal of it when he does. Take him out a glass of lemonade and a cushion, drag over a table we’ve got that’s the perfect height.” Going from romantic to raunchy, Shannon added, “And we’re not overlooked at that end of the yard so I plan to blow him on it sometime too.”

“Add another thank you for over-fucking-sharing.”

And for taking the hammock off the menu. Only fair that Rory got to use it first.

They drove back to the house with the air conditioning on full blast. It was nostalgic sharing the ride home with Shannon. Dex would never admit it, but he missed carpooling sometimes. It had been a simpler time, the three of them living together, all of them single. His reminiscing ended abruptly when they pulled into Shannon and Rory’s driveway behind Rory’s car and Shannon didn’t turn off the engine.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Dex asked, confused.

“No, I’ve got to go pick up Tank, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to offer to come along, for multiple reasons, so he got out. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. I’ll be back soon.”

Feeling strangely dejected, Dex went slowly up to the front door and knocked. Rory answered it a moment later.

“Oh geez. We’ll have to get you a key. I don’t think we have a spare. We should have a spare.” Rory glanced out past him and then kicked the door shut with a careful nudge. “You look like you had a day.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Dex agreed. “Is it okay if I jump in the shower? I’m happy to help with dinner as soon as I’ve washed off all this grime.”

“Sure, go ahead. I put some towels and stuff in the guest room.”

“You don’t need to go to any trouble,” Dex protested. “Act like I’m not here.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.” The wink and flat-out naughty smile had Dex rolling his eyes.

“You two are like rabbits.”

“And you and Peter have a relationship based on a connection of souls, pure and above earthly desires?”

Okay, that was funny. Dex flipped a laughing Rory the finger and went up to his room. The master bedroom had a bathroom attached, a door knocked into what had been a fourth bedroom, converted into a lush oasis with a clawfoot tub and a huge shower. Guests used the original bathroom, less luxurious, but big enough that Dex didn’t feel like a pinball careening off the walls. The fixtures were white, the floor tiled in an intricate mosaic of grey, white, and soft purple, and the mirror was free of streaks of toothpaste. Dex wasn’t sure how his mirror at home acquired those streaks, but cleaning them off was a pain.

The towels in his room weren’t white, which was good, since even after a shower Dex was sure he’d leave grubby marks on them. They were the same purple as the floor tiles, thick and dense.

It was all on the fancy side for Dex, but who was he to judge? If Shannon and Rory wanted a nice place, they deserved it. He had to keep in mind that whatever he found wouldn’t come close to matching this, but that was okay. He didn’t need fancy. Space for Tank, clean, and with good neighbors was about all he had on his want list.

As he got under the water, warm, despite what he’d told Shannon, he wondered if he’d see Peter again soon. He’d left the man half asleep in bed when he’d headed for Shannon and Rory’s place that morning, Peter’s hair tousled and his long limbs naked beneath the sheets. It hadn’t been easy to walk out when all he’d wanted to do was climb back in and taste every inch of Peter’s body; he’d made do with one long kiss, but it hadn’t been enough.

He ran a razor carefully over his scalp and spent a good ten minutes fiercely scrubbing the filth from his skin before he considered himself fit for human companionship. By the time he changed into clean clothes, he was feeling more like himself.

Rory was up his wrists in a bowl of ground meat. “Turkey burgers?” he asked when Dex came into the kitchen. “They’ve got peppers and onions.”

“Sounds great.” Dex was a little surprised even though he’d spent lots of time with Rory and knew he was as likely to order a restaurant meal loaded with cheese as any of the rest of them despite his profession. Secretly, he’d always suspected that at home Rory ate nothing but raw vegetables and trendy grains.

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Rory grinned as he formed a handful of meat into a patty.

“Okay, I won’t.” Dex smiled back at him. “What can I do to help?”

“Well, don’t touch this after you’ve gotten yourself clean. Do you want to slice up those tomatoes for Caprese salad on the side?”

The tomatoes were beside the sink in a blue bowl with a white rim. Their deep red caught the eye, their smooth skin, beaded with water, felt good against his palm, and the scent of them told him they were freshly picked. When he commented approvingly, Rory beamed as if he’d gotten a compliment.

“I set up a tiny greenhouse in a sunny spot, a frame with plastic panes, and these are the first crop. They’re early, but I bought plants that were well established and already had fruit on them. I want to grow a ton of fruit and veggies this year and make preserves and pickles and cider.”

Dex’s mom made jam, filling the kitchen with the tart-sweet scent of raspberries and sugar, a row of jars glowing like jewels in her pantry. “Yeah? Sounds like a lot of work, but if you enjoy it, why not? I saw the apple trees at the end of the yard.”

“Aren’t they great?” Rory rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, craning to reach. “Ack. Why do I always get an itch when I can’t scratch it?”

“Life sucks?” Dex offered.

“We’ll need to pick up the windfalls to stop the wasps coming around, but I can’t wait to taste apple pie from our own trees.”

“Save me a slice when you do.”

Rory gave him a speculative look. “I know Shannon already said this, but you can stay as long as you need to.”

“It won’t be until fall, no matter what happens,” Dex assured him. He believed them when they said he was welcome, but that didn’t mean it would be good for any of them if he stayed longer than a week or so. He found a cutting board and sliced a tomato carefully into discs with one of Rory’s razor-sharp knives.

The door opened and Shannon called out, “Honey, we’re home!” The scrabble of Tank’s nails on the floor was a welcome sound to Dex’s ears. He set the knife aside and wiped his hands on his jeans, then crouched down as Tank ran into the room. The dog made a clear effort to stop his forward momentum, but failed, bumping into Dex and knocking him onto his ass.

“Hey!” he said, trying to fend off swipes of Tank’s tongue. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy. No! Sit.”

Tank sat, but his hind end continued to wriggle as his tail swung back and forth.

“Did you bring his food?” Rory asked.

“Yes, dear. And his medicine and the crate. Why do we have to use it again?”

Hoisting himself up onto his knees, Dex said, “Because he’s a freak who can’t be trusted? I mean, look at him.”

Tank was already up and moving around again, tail wagging, acting like he hadn’t had surgery a week ago.

“A dog who refuses to accept limitations. No wonder I like him.” Rory fended Tank off. “Yeah, and I know why you like me, but you can’t have any of the meat.”

“Wait until it’s cooked and he’s scamming us for scraps,” Shannon said darkly. “Try telling him no then.”

“You know the rules. Human food for humans.” Dex went in search of the crate and after consulting with his hosts, they set it up in the kitchen, close to the door leading outside.

“He’ll whine if he can’t see us,” Shannon pointed out, closing the door on a disconsolate dog. “And we don’t stay in the kitchen unless we’re eating.”

“I don’t mind keeping him company,” Dex told him, returning to his salad duties after washing his hands. Tank had been lavish with his licks; flattering but not sanitary. “Give you two lovebirds some space.”

Even with his back turned, he knew they were exchanging glances and mouthing at each other. Exasperated, he turned and caught them at it. “What? Say it to my face.”

“Um, I was gonna wait until we’d eaten, but Luis sent over a note for you.” Shannon reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a creased envelope, curved to match the shape of his ass.

Letting his bitterness show, Dex asked, “What is it? An eviction notice? Demand for back rent? He’s not refunding my security deposit?”

“And I’d tell you he killed your dog and sold your Jeep to outlaws, except you already know that’s not true either.” Shannon rolled his eyes and thrust the envelope into Dex’s hand. “I don’t care if you read it or burn it—” Rory made a sound of protest and Shannon turned on him. “For fuck’s sake, Doc, he’s not an idiot! He isn’t gonna start a bonfire in the middle of the living room.”

Startled, Dex held up his free hand in a gesture of surrender. “Easy there, cowboy. I’ll go read it, okay?”

He abandoned his food prep a second time and retreated to the living room, leaving Rory and Shannon to handle the cooking. The leather couch was cool against the backs of his arms when he sank down onto it and unfolded the single piece of paper that the envelope had contained.

_Dex -_

__

__

I started this a dozen times already and had to keep throwing it away. Told myself this was the last one. I can’t remember if I said I was sorry out loud when we talked the other night, but I am. Sorry. We didn’t do it on purpose and we definitely didn’t set out to hurt you. I kind of hoped once you found out you’d realize your feelings for Elliot weren’t strong enough to warrant any kind of drama. I still don’t think they were. You weren’t in love with him, man. If you had been, stuff with Peter wouldn’t have ramped up the way it did. I’m not saying that’s an excuse for us hooking up. It’s a fact, and I’ve got to believe you’re going to see that and get over this because we’ve been friends way too long to let something like this come between us. Call me.

_\- Luis_

Dex was self-aware enough to recognize that if the note hadn’t ended in what was essentially an order, he might have considered putting an end to their estrangement right then and there. As it was, he wasn’t ready. It’d take more than a brief apology scribbled on notebook paper to smooth things over.

Shoving the crumpled up paper and envelope into his pocket, he went back to the kitchen, where the door to the backyard was ajar and Rory was alone.

“You okay?” Rory asked.

“Yeah,” Dex said. “Shannon grilling?”

Rory nodded. “Nice not to have to heat up the kitchen on hot nights.”

“Nah, he does it because someone told him there was a local law making it illegal to fire up the grill without a beer.”

“He might have mentioned that law a time or two.” Rory nodded at the fridge. “Why don’t you grab one and keep him company?”

“I see through your cunning plan, but Shannon and me, we’re not big on the heart-to-hearts.”

Rory shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll need to take this bowl of chips too since your mouth won’t be busy.”

Giving him an exasperated glare, Dex took the chips and a bottle of beer from a local microbrewery, heavy on the hops, bitter as his mood, and went out to the grill.

Whistling through his teeth, wielding a spatula in one hand, beer in the other, Shannon presented the picture of a man at peace with the world. Dex envied him. Shannon and Rory had found their happy ending, but he wasn’t sure his was around the corner. Peter appealed to him on every level, but his feelings for the guy were so strong and intense he didn’t trust them. Love came gradually, slowly, he was sure of it. Flash-in-the-pan lust was a sign of a fleeting infatuation. It would fade, Peter would move on and—

His stomach lurched at the idea, panic hitting him like a fist to the gut.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t feel bad about lying to Shannon when he knew it was the answer Shannon wanted. Quickly swallowing some beer, he dove into the conversation he’d sworn he’d avoid before he could change his mind. “When did you know you wanted things to be serious with Rory?”

“When did _I_ know?” Shannon poked a burger and considered the question. “I wasn’t keeping track, but I’d be surprised if it was more than a week.”

Did that mean something was missing from his feelings for Peter if he didn’t know yet? Or did it mean he was incapable of even recognizing those sorts of feelings? He’d been involved with dozens of men in his lifetime and he wasn’t sure he’d ever been in love. Lust, sure, but love? “Okay, _how_ did you know?”

Shannon set his empty beer bottle down and shrugged. “Haven’t spent much time thinking about it.”

Annoyed, Dex shoved some salt and vinegar chips into his mouth. What the hell kind of help was Shannon, anyway?

“Take your dog,” Rory said, appearing with Tank in tow. “He’s whining and driving me crazy. I don’t mind having him here, but he’s not my responsibility.” He let go of Tank’s collar and Tank went straight to Shannon, eyes locked on the spatula in his hand like he knew what it meant.

“None of these are for you.” Shannon glared at the dog. “They’ve got peppers and onions. Not good for dogs.”

“Like he cares. A burger’s worth a bellyache, right, bud?”

Tank barked, a reply Dex took as agreement. Smart dog.

“And I don’t have an answer for you,” Shannon said, picking up where he left off, “but I know one thing. It’s different for everyone, so if I did have one, it wouldn’t be any use to you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dex muttered.

“And what about Luis?”

“You’re as persistent as the fucking dog.” Tank was whining, staying still but conveying the impression of a starving animal clinging to good behavior and therefore deserving of a reward.

Either that or his belly hurt and he figured why waste the effort when Shannon and Dex were known quantities and soft touches.

“I get why you’re pissed, but is a guy you weren’t interested in, beyond fucking his ass a few times a week, worth losing a friendship over?”

“Luis thought that ass was worth a friendship.”

“You stopped making sense.” Shannon smacked a burger with his spatula. “Punch him, get drunk, cry on his shoulder, but don’t cut him out of your life. You’ve got Peter. Why do you care who has Elliot?”

“Does no one but me have a problem with friends lying to each other?” Dex demanded.

“He screwed up, but he’s sorry. You gonna leave him hanging?”

“Yeah,” Dex said slowly, letting the words sink in. “Apparently I am.”

Shannon gave him a look. “Pretty sure that makes you an asshole.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure you said you weren’t taking sides.” Dex didn’t appreciate being ganged up on, especially when he wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong.

Unless he'd been giving Elliot mixed messages or whatever, and somehow he’d been the start of this whole cascade of events, but he was having a hard time accepting the blame for everything that had happened when he hadn't been the one who screwed around.

“I thought I could trust the two of you out there,” Rory called through the open window.

“We’re fine.” Shannon's response sounded anything but. Dex found that reassuring; at least he wasn't the only one annoyed. “I’m not taking sides, okay? Try to see this from where I’m standing. I’m in the middle between my two best friends and it’s a shitty place to be. Shouldn’t come as a surprise that I want you to get things straightened out as soon as possible.”

“The chances of any of us turning out straight are about a zillion to one,” Dex said, and after a few seconds they laughed.

“That’s better!” Rory called. “Bring those burgers in before they turn to charcoal!”

Dex took hold of Tank’s collar and led him inside. Something told him Rory would enjoy the burgers more with Tank back in his crate.

Chapter Ten

Peter huffed out a breath and forced his legs to complete a curl. Now he knew why tennis players made unearthly grunts when they hit the ball. Vocalizing his pain, his sheer fucking agony, helped. Not much, and not enough, but it helped.

“Three more.” The trainer smothered a yawn. “Sorry. Clubbing last night and it’s catching up with me. You’re doing great.”

Peter eyed the man sourly without replying. Justin was stunning, openly gay, and a sadist. It wasn’t a combination that appealed to him when he was on the receiving end of the sadism. And making him do thirty leg curls after adding more weights for the last set of ten when Peter’s legs had reached their limit qualified as cruel.

He wished Dex was in charge. Not that Dex was any more merciful, because he wasn’t, but at least Peter could drool over him as a pleasant distraction from burning muscles and sweat trickling into his eyes leaving them stinging, vision blurred.

Instead, Dex had passed him over to Justin and gone to chat to the owner and manager of the gym. Jeff Cleeves had once been a boxer, lightweight regional champion five years running, according to the trophies and photographs displayed in a case in the lobby. Now, in his early sixties, hair silver, muscles stringy, he looked little like the triumphant man at the peak of his fitness, smiling with bruised lips, hand punching the air.

Dex didn’t come back to rescue him, and eventually Justin nodded and said, “Okay, good. Better not to overdo it while you’re still new.”

Peter felt like telling the man he’d already overdone it, but that sort of honesty seemed embarrassing. “Thanks.”

He met Dex at the water cooler, where he gulped down four tiny paper cups of water before he could speak. “You okay?” Dex asked.

“Barely. How well do you know that guy?”

“Justin? I don’t know. We haven’t swapped life stories or anything, but he seems cool. You don’t like him?”

“My body doesn’t like him or any of the ideas he comes up with. I don’t think I’ll ever recover. He has entirely unrealistic views of what human muscles are capable of, and he wants to kill me. Never leave me alone with him again.” Peter realized Dex wasn’t as amused by the conversation as he’d expected. “Is something wrong?”

“Other than you hating Justin?” Dex shrugged. “No. Can we go somewhere and talk? After you’ve had a chance to rinse off.”

“We were going to dinner,” Peter reminded him. “And Justin’s not the only one with unrealistic views if you think a rinse is all I need before I can subject others to my presence.”

“Dinner, right. Yeah, take your time,” Dex said, patting his shoulder with care. “It’s nothing serious.”

Peter appreciated the gentle touch since he might shatter into pieces if anyone was too rough with him. “Okay. Give me ten minutes.”

In the shower, cock half hard as he remembered what it had been like to be naked with Dex in the sauna less than twenty feet away, he contemplated what kind of ‘nothing serious’ would bring Dex to a mental place where he wanted to ‘talk.’ Sure, Dex’s view of himself as a tough guy who avoided emotion was pretty skewed, but _asking_ to discuss something seemed like a big deal. It was an interesting enough puzzle that he hurried to wash so he could hear the details.

Two doors down from the gym was a Chinese buffet Peter had been to half a dozen times. It was decent and close and he had to be at work early the next morning, since it was a weekend, so they’d agreed to grab a meal there after their workout. He loaded his plate, making sure half of what he put on it was vegetables (even if they were coated with teriyaki sauce) and joined Dex, who was already eating, back at the table.

“Don’t wait for me or anything,” Peter said, then grinned when Dex glanced at him. “I’m _kidding_. It’s fine. So what’s up?”

Dex chewed, swallowed, took a sip of water, then blotted his mouth with a paper napkin. As a delaying tactic, it bought him maybe ten seconds to frame his reply. What did he have to say that needed rehearsing?

Oh God. “You’re breaking up with me?” he blurted. “Jesus, you are, aren’t you?”

“Huh? No!” Dex reached across the table to grab his hand, narrowly missing his glass. His grip was painfully tight, but Peter had no desire to pull free. “Never gonna happen. No.”

“Then what is it?” Peter twisted his hand so he could return Dex’s grip, relieved when Dex loosened the tight clasp. “You’re scaring me.”

“Remember me saying one night how I was bored of construction?”

“Sweat gallons in the summer, freeze your balls off in the winter, and spring and fall you’re too busy working your ass off to care what the weather’s like,” Peter recited. “Yeah, I remember, but I thought you were blowing off steam the way everyone does about their job sometimes.” Something occurred to him. “There aren’t any openings at the hospital,” he said cautiously, and was immediately relieved when Dex snorted.

“Like I’d be qualified even if there were. No, it’s Jeff, the guy who runs the gym. His dad fell and broke his hip, he’s flying down there tonight, and I kind of offered to cover for him for however long he’s gone.”

“Okay.” Peter crunched some broccoli and waited for the catch.

“Okay?”

“So what? Your boss will fire you for good when you tell him you want the time off? Jeff runs another gym three hours away and you’ll be spending the next few weeks commuting back and forth and won’t be able to see me?”

Dex frowned. “No and no. What?”

“Well, I figured there was something more to it. What’ll your boss say?”

“He’ll be annoyed for ten minutes, but he’ll get over it. This job’s smaller than some of the ones he manages and a couple of his semi-regulars had to sit it out. Any of them will jump at the chance to fill my shoes.”

“_Try_ to fill your shoes,” Peter corrected. “I still don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

Twirling lo mein noodles onto his fork, Dex said, “I assumed you’d talk me out of it.”

“Why would I want to do that? You’re bored with your current job, you can take time off without any consequences, and you love being at the gym. I’m not seeing any negatives.” He glanced up from his plate and caught Dex gazing at him with admiration. How had he gotten so lucky? “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Dex blinked at him. “That came out of left field, but thanks. You’re doing wonders for my ego, but throw in a few insults from time to time or I’ll get too full of myself.”

“Your biceps are too big and your kisses are addictive. How’s that?”

With a slow shake of his head Dex turned his thumb down. “You’re not getting the hang of the insulting part of this at all. Never mind. So you’re on board?”

“It’s not up to me, but I am, yeah.”

“There’s something else.” Dex fidgeted with his plate, turning it this way and that. “He said I could live in the apartment over the gym. He doesn’t use it, hasn’t for years, but he’s kept it clean and up to code. It’d let me get out of Shannon and Rory’s hair while I look for something permanent and he’s fine with Tank being there.”

“Well, that’s good too.” Peter found it difficult to meet Dex’s gaze, fixed on him as if judging his sincerity. “Not that I’m sure they don’t want you, I mean that they’re glad that you—” He broke off before his sentences got too convoluted to be coherent. “Let me start over.”

“Don’t bother. I got it. I’m learning to decipher you when you get your words tangled.”

Peter cleared his throat. “So, no chance of you moving back with Luis.” It wasn’t a question.

“You didn’t hear then?” Dex stabbed a chicken ball with a chopstick, a vicious jab. “Elliot’s living there now.”

“What? But why? He’s renovating his house; doesn’t he want—I don’t get it.”

Voice flat, Dex said, “He won an award for ten thousand dollars at work. There’s a company sponsoring a kid-friendly research park in the wetlands, and they put the money up for the best plan that didn’t impact the wildlife. Elliot nailed it. So he’s taking a month off work, because he’s gotten to the point where if he doesn’t use his leave, he loses it, and he’s going to spend it and the money on getting the house close to finished. Too much chaos for him and his dog, so he’s camping out at Luis’s while it goes on.” Dex shrugged. “No way I’m living under the same roof as both of them.”

Peter grimaced. “I don’t blame you there. Are you sure the apartment’s okay after all this time? I mean, have you even seen it?”

“No, but Jeff gave me the key so I could check it out. I didn’t want to until I knew you didn’t think the whole idea sounded crazy. Sometimes I need someone to bring me back to reality.”

“Not crazy. Brave, maybe. I can come with you if you want? To see the place?”

“That’d be great. Especially since I’m hoping you’ll spend the night sometimes. I wouldn’t want to move my stuff in and then find out you hate it.”

“You think I’m a lot fussier than I am,” Peter told him.

“Are you kidding? I’ve seen your car.” Dex grinned. “I’m serious, though. If the place gave you bad vibes or whatever, I’d find somewhere else to stay. I’m going to have to sooner or later anyway but it’d be nice if I didn’t have to start looking immediately.”

Peter gave up on the underdone cauliflower he’d been trying to eat and focused on the spicy green beans instead. “You’ll be busy,” he pointed out, cautious.

“Not much busier than I am now. He doesn’t expect me to replace him, just keep things running until he can get back.”

“When will that be?”

“He hopes it won’t be more than a couple of weeks. I should call the realtor Shannon and Rory used when they bought their house and see if they’ll help me look for a rental, unless I can talk Jeff into letting me stay in the apartment long term.”

Peter didn’t want to suggest that maybe long term Dex and Luis would work things out because he knew Dex wasn’t ready to deal with it. And if he were honest, though he’d love to see everyone friends again, he shared Dex’s resentment to a certain extent. Elliot’s decision to stay with Luis was the equivalent of slamming the door in Dex’s face. How the hell did they expect Dex to handle seeing the two of them kissing or listening to them have wall-banging sex? And even if Elliot moved back home once the renovation was complete, if everything worked out, eventually they’d want to live together.

To his mind, Dex under the same roof as Luis, especially since that roof belonged to Luis, wasn’t on the cards, but it didn’t mean the friendship was a lost cause.

“Do you want to head over there now?”

Dex gave him a smile, his gratitude plain. “Can we? Would you mind? It’d have to be quick because Shannon and Rory have Tank.”

Exasperated, Peter asked bluntly, “Well, isn’t he a third Shannon’s dog anyway?”

Dex snorted. “Yeah, but Rory’s all Shannon’s and he’s not a dog person. I can tell. Rory, I mean, not Shannon. He’s nice enough, but I see him wincing when Tank drools on the rugs or flinching when he barks. And if Bailey’s with Luis, that’s enough for him to deal with.”

Nodding, Peter shifted the focus of their conversation to the food they’d been eating as they finished up. “No, it’s my turn to get the check,” he said when the waitress dropped off the bill and Dex reached for it automatically. “You paid last time.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They walked over to the gym and around the corner of the building to a metal door painted a flat, dull red. There was rust along its bottom edge, but the key turned easily enough. He followed Dex up the narrow flights of stairs, admiring Dex’s ass while fearing the apartment would turn out to be a huge disappointment.

To his surprise, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Sure, it smelled dusty, and the sheets draped over the limited furniture gave the place an air of abandonment, but the kitchen wasn’t dated and the bathroom, when he peeked his head in, was in good shape.

“It’s nicer than I pictured,” Dex said, swinging the key ring around on his finger.

“It's got potential. Is the furniture included?”

“Yeah. Jeff said there was some stuff up here but he couldn’t remember what. It’ll be fine considering I won’t be here long. Wow, that lamp’s gotta go, though. I think it’s older than the one my grandmother had when I was growing up.” The lamp in question was made mostly of white glass that had little bumps on it, as if it had been stricken with a strange case of chickenpox.

Peter wandered over and opened a closet door. “You could put it on the shelf in here. At least you wouldn’t have to look at it.”

“Or break it accidentally on purpose as my contribution to making the world a better place.”

“That works.” He didn’t think Dex would do it, but he liked the cheerfulness in Dex’s voice, the energy that had been lacking for the last few days. “So if you’re in charge, are you going to do something about the towel situation?” The small complimentary towels intended to wipe down machines or sweaty faces had begun life as white and were now a uniform dingy color, difficult to describe. Clean, yes, appealing, no.

Dex shuddered. “Yeah, well I’d love to, but I doubt Jeff would let me. If I could there’d be changes across the board. It’s frustrating to see the gym go downhill when structurally it’s sound and the equipment’s top of the line. Jeff’s done great there, but he’s old school and he doesn’t see the need to spruce it up. Wouldn’t take much. A few thousand dollars would give it a facelift, we could run a promotion for new members, a few events to get people interested…”

“You’ve thought about it before.” Peter leaned against the wall, studying Dex with interest. Every time he decided he’d figured the guy out, Dex revealed another layer. “Is running a gym something you could see yourself doing?”

“It’d be a better long term career than construction.”

Peter nodded. “In construction, you get the physical work you need, but you must be in your own head a lot of the time. It’s not social, it’s too isolated.”

“Yeah.” Dex blinked at him, apparently surprised. “That’s it.”

“This can be a trial run, then. See how it feels to take the reins without the financial risk of starting up your own place.”

“I’m a little worried I’ll like it too much.” The words came slowly, the admission reluctant.

“What would happen if you did?”

Dex walked over to him and leaned in, one hand settling on his hip. “Probably the same thing that’s happening with you. I like you a little too much.”

Peter’s interest in the conversation was instantly eclipsed by arousal. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“It is when you make me wonder stuff. Like where this is going and is it the real deal. If we’ve got a future beyond our next fuck or this is a sizzle and a spark, yeah, but there’s nothing to burn.”

Breathless, but determined not to show his stunned reaction to the idea of a life with Dex in it, Peter countered, “Why burn anything? You end up with nothing left. Why not build? You might not like it as a job, but when it comes to relationships, it’s got a lot going for it.”

“Need the heat too.”

Peter laughed at him, smiling into those bemused, friendly eyes, that stunning, sexy face. Inside his head was turmoil, chaos, but the strong beat of need provided a focal point, gathering in those scattered thoughts and anchoring them securely, the way a sheet of music held the notes. “Trust me, our house would never get cold.”

“Our house?” Dex seemed to be turning the words in his mouth, tasting them like a morsel of exotic food. “Got nothing much to offer you but this place right now.”

“Does it have a bed?”

“God, I hope so.” Dex slid his hand around the back of Peter’s neck, the warm clasp sending a shiver of anticipation through him. “But for you I’d make do with a pile of rocks.”

They kissed, the wall solid behind Peter’s back and Dex solid against his front. He was a little too old to throw caution to the wind and suggest they didn’t need a bed, but God, it was tempting to sink down onto the floor pulling Dex with him. After so many months without any sex life to speak of, the merest hint of the possibility that he might get to be naked—and with Dex—was enough to rev his engine to whatever a high rpm was.

He needed to learn more about cars.

Some other time.

Dex shifted and got a hand between them, pressing the heel against Peter’s erection. He tried to stifle his groan against Dex’s neck and Dex said, “You don’t have to be quiet. No one can hear us.”

“You think?” It wasn’t a serious question; he was sure Dex was right. Floor beneath their feet, then ceiling under that, gym machines, televisions, not to mention music driving enough to encourage harder workouts. If any of the other people down there were like him, the sound of their heartbeats pounding in their ears as they pushed themselves.

“Don’t want to think,” Dex grumbled. His teeth bit at Peter’s throat. This time Peter made no attempt to muffle the sound that escaped him. “You shouldn’t either.”

“Right,” he muttered. “No thinking.”

Easiest instruction to obey he’d ever been given. With Dex surrounding him, his breathing quickening, mind clouded with desire, the world took a hike with a packed lunch, leaving him able to lose himself in pleasure. It was new to him, this overwhelming hunger, and it came with emotions he wasn’t sure he understood. Dex was a mess of contradictions; strong, but he needed support. Generous and considerate, but capable of holding a grudge. And he was ready, willing, and eager to have Peter fuck him. That was so arousing Peter didn’t dwell on it. Not when the nearest condoms were in a machine in the gym washrooms.

He’d gotten his hand inside Dex’s pants and around his stiff erection when a phone rang, insistently blaring a tune he didn’t recognize, which meant it was Dex’s.

“Fuck.” Dex’s verbal reaction was succinct and Peter echoed it, in full agreement. He was less on board with Dex stepping away, absently tugging up the sweatpants he wore over his exercise shorts.

The call didn’t last long, but when it ended he’d heard enough to know sex was off the menu.

“That was Jeff. Wanted to know if I’d decided and when I said I had, he told me to come down to his office and sign the papers he’d had drawn up. He’s in a rush. Wants to fly out tomorrow and he’d got a shitload of work to do so I couldn’t tell him to wait while I got you off.”

“Okay. Yeah.” It wasn’t easy to be understanding when he was so turned on, but he wasn’t twenty anymore. He could be patient. “Go on. Give me the key and I’ll lock the place up when I’ve finished looking around.”

Dex gave him a quick, regretful kiss and left, the sound of his footsteps on the stairs echoing in the mostly empty space as Peter set the key down on the kitchen counter, disturbing a layer of dust as he did so. There didn’t seem to be much grime, but there was definitely dust.

He opened a few cupboards—they were empty—and the refrigerator, which wasn’t plugged in. It smelled stale and faintly of mildew, but it was clean enough. Under the sink he found a bucket with a collection of cleaning supplies, so he took that out. No reason not to wipe down a few surfaces, plus it provided distraction from his cock, which was stubbornly refusing to soften.

After swiping a sponge through some orange-scented cleaner he’d sprayed onto the countertops, Peter wandered into the bathroom and looked at it more closely. The tub and toilet were the same old-fashioned shade of blue. The sink was newer, a neutral off-white that was probably referred to as eggshell or bisque. There was no shower curtain and, even when he’d checked in the small linen closet, no toilet paper.

He’d crossed the threshold into the bedroom when his phone rang. It was Stefan. “Hey, what’s up?” Usually when Stefan called it was because there was an emergency that required a second pair of hands or a second opinion.

“Hi. I’m on right now, but things are quiet. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Sure.” He wished he’d had some genuine excuse because he was pretty sure he knew what Stefan wanted to talk about.

“I want to be a full partner.”

Well, that was guaranteed to make the conversation fit within the few minutes Stefan needed. Because Peter’s answer was a firm no. Hiding a sigh, he phrased it in a more conciliatory way.

“It’s great you feel your future is with us, but it’s a big step to take for a young man.”

Stefan snorted. “I’m only a year younger than you.”

“Even so, are you sure—”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Impatience sharpened Stefan’s voice, ironically lending it a warmth it usually lacked, as if any emotion was better than none. “I wouldn’t have drawn up a cost analysis otherwise. We’re bleeding money in certain areas, but I’ve got plans ready to go to fix those issues, don’t worry. Once I’m officially a partner, I’ll share them.”

Outrage effectively gagged Peter for a moment or two. So many words crowded his mouth there was no room for them to escape. Stefan carried on talking, his voice back to its flat, metallic whine, but Peter had stopped listening.

“No,” he said finally, opting for simple. “The answer’s no.”

“What?” Stefan laughed. “Very funny, but you can’t turn me down. Tell me one good reason not to do the logical, sensible thing here.”

“You don’t like animals.”

“That’s not a prerequisite to treating them.”

“If you mean once they’re unconscious they don’t care that you never pet them or remember their names, that might be true. Unless you believe that a caring, positive atmosphere aids healing as I do. You’re too quick to give up on an animal. You don’t factor in how much they mean to their owner. And they don’t respond well to you. Going to the vet’s is stressful, more so if it's an emergency vet who's new to the animal, and you make it worse. So, no, Stefan. The answer’s no.”

“It’s not up to you,” Stefan said, his voice cold. “It’s Dr. Fitzgerald’s share of the business I’ll be buying out, not yours. Why do you think you have any say in it?”

“Because if she’d already said yes, you wouldn’t be asking me.” Peter refused to let Stefan take control of the conversation.

“She’ll say yes if you agree to it.” It was easy to imagine Stefan’s expression, impatient, confident that in the end he’d be the one to come out on top.

Peter sighed and sank down onto the mattress, which was covered with an old sheet to protect it from the dust. “You didn’t argue with me about the way you feel about our patients.”

“Because I didn’t think it was an argument I’d be able to win. How I feel isn’t important. What matters is my skill, my ability to heal a damaged body. Not whether or not I stay up all night staring at the ceiling sick with anxiety about whether a particular dog or cat’s going to make it.”

“You say that like it’s a negative.” Peter knew it wasn’t as simple as that, but he absolutely believed that a deep sense of caring about one’s patients was the difference between a minimally competent veterinarian and a great one.

“It is,” Stefan insisted.

“If that’s what you believe, then you’re right—we’re on different sides of this argument and nothing’s going to change that. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t, but maybe saying so would smooth things over.

“You’re making a mistake,” Stefan said, his voice a hard warning, and hung up before Peter could respond.

And...ouch. He hated confrontations, but when he had no doubt he was making the right call, there was no way he could’ve answered any differently. Who the hell did Stefan think he was? He’d been at the practice a year, never did extra shifts unless compelled to, left on the dot even when an animal was in the waiting room needing treatment. He contributed skill and knowledge, yeah, even in his anger Peter admitted that. From an academic, technical perspective, Stefan was the better vet. But if the owners didn’t like him, they’d go elsewhere. And if the animals didn’t take to him, they’d learn to dread a visit more than most of them did already. The practice had a reputation for good service and reasonable prices.

Stefan wasn’t pulling them down from that level of success.

Dex sent him a quick text, one assuming Peter had left the apartment, telling him the meeting was running long and he’d catch up with him the next day. Peter worked off some of his negative emotions by cleaning, scrubbing every surface as if the action could erase the conversation with Stefan. He ran the ancient vacuum over the floor to drown the echoes of the man’s voice and squirted air freshener around until the damp, scented air made him cough.

Finally, dust sheets folded in the closet, he ran out of chores. The rooms needed airing, but they were ready for Dex to live in. Tiredness struck and he sank into a chair, as grubby as if the grime had transferred itself to his skin. He wanted to wallow in a hot bath for hours, until his skin wrinkled, waterlogged and pink.

Instead he allowed one minute to sit with his exhaustion and feel sorry for himself, then got up and went back down the stairs, locking the door carefully before he went to his car. Chico needed to go out by now, and Scout would go along with it even though her bladder could put up with a lot more than the tiny Chihuahua’s at this point. He debated calling Fer to make sure she knew he’d had to put his foot down on the Stefan thing, but decided he’d wait and talk to her in person tomorrow when they swapped shifts. It wasn’t the kind of thing he should do over the phone.

Not that he was in avoidance mode because he hated conflict.

Nope, that wasn’t the explanation at all.

*****

Peter’s Sunday shift started at six a.m., which meant getting up before five if he wanted time to shower, shave, and make sure the dogs and cats had everything they needed. He hit the snooze button three times before bolting out of bed and going through his morning routine in a frenzy that had Scout excitedly dancing around on her three legs and Chico blinking at him in the mild sort of alarm that was all he could muster.

He waited impatiently at the drive through window for his coffee and muffin, which he scarfed down as he completed his journey to work. He was ten minutes early. That might not be enough to have the conversation he needed to have with Fer before she headed home, but he was determined to do his best. Maybe short was better. Short and sweet.

Finding Stefan’s car in the lot, a sleek, black BMW that he kept gleaming even in winter with salt on the roads turning most vehicles a uniform grayish white was a shock.

“Not supposed to be here,” he muttered. “Why are you here, asshole?”

Stupid question since he knew the answer. Stefan had come in to put pressure on Fer. She was a tough lady, but since she was retiring, maybe Stefan hoped she wasn’t interested in who took over as long as they were competent.

Peter got out of his car, coffee in one hand, though it had less than a swallow or two left. It gave him something to hold onto. In his jacket pocket was the key to Dex’s apartment, a talisman of sorts, reminding him he was special to someone.

He walked in, and nodded at the receptionist, Tricia, who gave him a tired smile. The waiting room was empty, but he heard voices from one of the treatment rooms. Raised voices.

“Fer’s in there with _him_,” Tricia told him in a whisper that carried more than speaking normally. “He’s in a temper. Blazed through five minutes ago without as much as a look at me. You’d think I was invisible or something.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured her. “I know what it’s about. I’ll go through and calm them down before a patient arrives.”

He knocked at the door and went in without waiting for a response, shutting it firmly behind him. Even if there weren’t any patients in the building, it was awkward for Tricia to listen in on a management related argument.

“Oh, great,” Stefan said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t even have one conversation without you butting in!”

“I start at six; I’m supposed to be here.”

"Hi, Peter," Fer said.

“I knew he didn’t like me, I didn’t realize how far he was willing to go, and it’s not okay. It’s illegal, even. I’ve already filed a police report.” Stefan talked to Fer, no, at her, with the occasional dark glance at Peter, who had gone from confident he could handle this to completely puzzled in ten seconds flat.

“A police report about what?”

“As if you didn’t know! My car!”

Peter hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Stefan’s car on his way in. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sure, deny it.”

“Hang on, Stefan. Let’s give Peter a chance to tell his side of the story,” Fer said.

“I don’t even know what story it is!” Peter said. “Something happened to your car? Did someone hit it?”

“Someone keyed it,” Stefan said flatly. “Last night. Well, it could have been in the afternoon; I didn’t see it until I got home and pulled into the garage. It’s all down the side. Don’t try to pretend you didn’t do it—I know it was you.”

Any semblance of calm left him. “You’re accusing me of keying your car? That’s ridiculous. I’d never do something like that in a million years.” He focused on Fer; she was the only one in the room worth his time and effort.

“It doesn’t sound like you,” she agreed, tugging at her lower lip, a habit of hers when she was troubled. “But yelling and screaming obscenities over the phone doesn’t either and Stefan says that’s what happened when he spoke with you about becoming a partner.”

“We had a phone conversation, but there was no swearing and I don’t remember raising my voice. Telling Stefan I didn’t want him as a partner, yes. That happened.”

Stefan turned to Fer. “That’s his version of events? Seriously? I got off the phone and I was…” With a catch in his voice Peter admired from an artistic point of view, Stefan broke off, taking some deep breaths before continuing. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was shaken. I pride myself on being strong enough to take criticism, learn from it if it’s constructive, but to be told I was cold, cruel, and took pleasure in seeing animals suffer was so...so hurtful I didn’t sleep at all. Kept hearing his words on a loop. Then I suspected the person who’d vandalized my car wasn’t some random teenager but him. As a warning to back off trying to become part of this business in a meaningful way.”

“Oh give me a fucking break!” Peter exploded. “This is delusional. You probably keyed it yourself to get sympathy and have something to accuse me of.”

Too late, he saw the trap Stefan had prepared. Fer’s raised eyebrows told him she didn’t appreciate his outburst, though she stayed silent, frowning as she glanced at each of them in turn.

“I’ve put in as many hours as either of you the whole time I’ve been working here,” Stefan said. He kept his voice low. “I came into this practice with the understanding that eventually, when one of you left, I’d have the opportunity to become a partner, and you don’t have a single good reason to refuse to let me. Not one. I’m reliable, I come in on time, I’m up to date on the most modern research, I’m skilled in surgery. You know that’s all true.”

Fer sighed and ruffled a hand through her short, gray hair. “I know. It is. But it’s not like I can let you buy me out if you and Peter are going to be at each other’s throats the minute I leave. I built this business, and I care about what happens to it.”

“And I’ve been here a hell of a lot longer than you have,” Peter told him. “It’s not that I think you’re a bad doctor. You aren’t a good fit, that’s all.”

“So you’ll ignore the way he yelled and swore at me? Great. Well, the police will have something to say about it. I’m sure they can swab my car for fingerprints or something.”

With great restraint, Peter managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “They won’t find mine. I haven’t touched your car in months, if ever.”

“Fine.” Stefan glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back at three for my shift.”

“Well, that was fun,” Peter said once he’d heard the door to the parking lot swing open. “Did you know he was coming in?”

Fer shook her head and leaned against the exam table. “No. You didn’t yell at him?”

“Have you ever heard me yell at _anyone_? Of course I didn’t, and I didn’t key his car, either. He probably scratched it himself with a shopping cart or something and then decided he could blame it on me.”

“I don’t know. He sounded genuinely upset and I’m not sure he’s that good an actor.” She hesitated, then said, “There’s that security camera that points toward the parking lot. If it happened here, there might be footage of whoever did it.”

“That’s a great idea!” Peter didn’t need to fake his enthusiasm for the plan and he saw Fer’s shoulders relax, as if a small amount of doubt had been lifted. “We keep the footage for a few days, right?”

She nodded. “Automatic write-over after seventy-two hours to save space, so we should have what we need. I’ll take care of it; you’re on the clock.”

He didn’t argue. She was tired, but fast forwarding through a few hours of footage wouldn’t take long and if it cleared his name, maybe Stefan would be appeased and drop the wild accusations.

He held onto that hope as he dealt with a poodle who’d swallowed an exercise tracker designed to fit into a bracelet.

“She loves black jelly beans,” the owner said tearfully. “She must have thought it was one.”

“Candy’s not good for her.” Peter stroked the curly head. “But she’ll pass the tracker without difficulty. I’ll give her something to make her poop and we’ll monitor the situation.”

The owner wrinkled her nose. “Do you think it’ll still be working? Because I’d kind of like to upgrade to the new model and if I tell my husband it’s broken…”

Another day he might have been amused. Now a surge of annoyance at her carelessness and cupidity made it an effort to smile when he replied. “I don’t know what state it’ll be in when it emerges, but if it’s any help, I doubt it’d survive being sanitized.”

Fer appeared in the doorway, glancing at him through the glass. She shook her head and disappeared.

What did that mean? With a clear conscience, Peter wasn’t worried what she’d seen, but if it’d been inconclusive that was a blow.

As soon as possible he went in search of her, catching her as she gathered her belongings in the small break room.

“So you didn’t see anyone?”

Fer put the tattered paperback of _Mansfield Park_ she’d been reading for months into a brightly colored purse she’d brought back from Mexico, avoiding looking at him. “I saw a man, judging by the build, wearing a hoodie, keeping low as if he knew where the camera was, never showing his face. He ducked behind the car on the side Stefan said was scratched and a moment later he ran off.”

“A hoodie?” Disappointed, Peter exhaled. “Not much use then.”

Speaking slowly, as if choosing her words, Fer said, “It had a logo on the back. I recognized it. Those hoodies were handed out to everyone who completed the walk to raise money for guide dogs. You and I got one, but it was before Stefan started working here. Mine’s at home in my closet. Where’s yours?”

“No idea. I haven’t seen it in, I don’t know, at least six months. It could be at my house somewhere, but I can’t say for sure that it is.” He studied Fer, trying to figure out what she was thinking. “Look, I know where the camera is, but if I knew I'd be caught on tape, why would I wear a hoodie you’d recognize? I’m not that stupid.”

“You’re not, but how would Stefan have gotten his hands on that particular item of clothing?”

Peter shrugged. “Maybe he found it here. We all leave stuff that ends up shoved in cubbies or whatever. I’m the tallest person here—it wouldn’t be much of a stretch for him to guess it was mine and not yours or any of the techs.” He couldn’t help but feel that if Fer trusted him so little that this crazy scenario seemed possible to her, he should be the one letting Stefan buy him out of the practice.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” she suggested. “Give ourselves time to think things through. You know I’m on your side.”

He didn’t, but it was easier to agree with her so he nodded as she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed out.

The day passed in a blur. He saw dogs, cats, a snake, and a hamster. Cleared paperwork, okayed orders for supplies, and helped clean up after an incontinent cat. Ate lunch, drank coffee, smiled and chatted with owners and staff. And none of it was real. Under his actions and words he was disturbed and worried by Stefan’s swift reprisal. It was so neatly done. So impossible for Peter to prove his innocence completely, leaving a shadow of doubt in the mind of anyone.

Almost anyone. Dex would believe him, he was sure of that.

At the end of his shift he left with a surge of relief he’d never felt before. He loved his work but today the emergency vet’s office had been a prison. The air inside his car was stifling. The ancient cooling system took forever to kick in so he lowered the windows and reversed out after a quick glance over his shoulder. He’d arrange to meet Dex, return the apartment key, and yeah, cry on his shoulder a little. Odd how comforting it was to have someone in his life to share his troubles with.

Lost in pleasant thoughts of Dex’s undoubted righteous anger at Stefan, the sound of glass shattering took a moment to register. When it did, he swore, turned off the engine and went to investigate.

A beer bottle, crushed by his tire, all jagged splinters, had his cursing reaching new levels of inventiveness.

He’d reversed far enough that the bottle lay under the car, making it difficult to clear away. He went back into the building using the side door and got a dustpan and brush from the cleaning cupboard, managing to avoid meeting anyone.

There was a liquor store at the end of the block, so the source of the bottle was no mystery. It was possible it’d rolled against his tire accidentally, or been put there by a kid in a mindless act of meanness, but Peter’s money was on Stefan, every cent of it.

A few passes with the brush got the glass inside the pan, but small pieces were embedded in the tire. With luck, they wouldn’t have pierced it deeply, but they had to come out. He used his finger and thumb on the first two with success, but on the third, his grip slipped and the glass sliced his finger open, blood welling quickly, the pain following.

“Fuck!”

He went back inside, a trail of blood droplets behind him like bread crumbs left to lead him home. He knew stitches would be the best option, but there was no way he’d let Stefan touch him with a needle. Besides, Fer had a policy: Animal doctors for animals, people doctors for people. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his finger tightly in gauze and went back to the car, where he finished cleaning up as best he could then dumped the broken glass into the dumpster along with the dustpan and brush. There were multiple sets in the office and he’d replace them as soon as he could; no point risking broken glass ending up inside the building.

At home, he let the dogs out and fed all the pets while contemplating whether he should go to the emergency room for stitches. He’d successfully closed smaller wounds with surgical glue in the past, and he had some in the bathroom, but he was doubtful it would work in this case and he didn’t want to compromise his skin if it didn’t and stitches became necessary.

Finally accepting the inevitable, he locked up and drove over to the local hospital. He texted Jackie from the waiting room, awkwardly one-handed, to give her a heads up about what was going on; she’d check in on Chico if this ended up taking more than an hour or two. At least he’d hurt himself at the end of his shift instead of the beginning.

There were apparently a dozen people with more serious injuries or illnesses ahead of him in line; he was half asleep leaning back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair when someone touched his arm.

“What the hell’s going on?” Dex said, standing over him with a deep frown etched into his face.

“Cut my finger.” Peter blinked away sleepiness. “What time’s it?”

“After six. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think to.” God, his mouth was dry. Had he been sitting there with it hanging open? “How did you know I was here?”

“Showed up at your place after work at the same time your neighbor was unlocking your front door to check on the dogs. She said you’d gone to the hospital but wasn’t sure which one. I figured it was worth guessing you’d come here. Turns out I was right.” Dex looked angry, but Peter could tell it wasn’t at him. “You’ve been waiting for hours.”

“I’m not serious.” He gestured vaguely. “Other people were.”

“I get that a heart attack takes priority, but I don’t see why your turn hasn’t come yet.” Dex strode over to the receptionist with Peter watching him, dumbfounded and apprehensive. He stood and followed Dex, unwilling to have Dex speak for him, but conscious of a thrill of delight that someone cared enough to take his side.

“Hi,” Dex said, with a charming smile. “Doctor Holland’s been waiting for hours with a deep cut and a possibility of infection. Any chance you could let us know where he is in the line?”

The lady, her hair a tight mass of white curls, plump cheeks liberally coated with powder and blush, gave Peter a dubious look. “He’s a doctor?”

“Veterinarian,” Peter explained. His finger throbbed, the flesh hot, the threat of infection making his stomach lurch. “I cut it on dirty glass and it needs stitches.”

She squinted at him, then put on glasses that hung around her neck on a purple chain. “Why, I know you! Didn’t you put my cat to sleep?”

“Uh…”

“Tabby, her name was, short for Tabitha. She was twelve, bless her, but her kidneys failed.”

The name and the ailment narrowed it down to about thirty cats, if not more. Peter settled for a diplomatic, “It’s always hard to lose a pet.”

“You were kind,” she said as if talking to herself. “I remember that.” Briskly she pointed at the seats. “Still gotta wait in line, sugar.”

“He’s _been_ waiting,” Dex pointed out. “For hours. He gets infected and can’t use his hand, he loses his job and he sues for damages. What’s your last name, Rose? Details matter in a lawsuit.”

She snorted. “You won’t get much out of me and that’s a fact. Now sit yourselves down and your turn will come soon enough.” She shuffled a stack of papers busily, ignoring Dex’s hiss of annoyance.

“Come on,” Peter said, tugging Dex’s arm. “Do as she says. It can’t be much longer.”

Dex sighed, but allowed himself to be steered back to the seats. “Tempting fate. If there’s a five-car pile-up or a mass outbreak of food poisoning, it’s on your head.”

“All of it is already.” Peter sank into the same chair again, his back protesting, and sighed. He wished he could rest his head on Dex’s shoulder and doze off. “What a day.”

“Tell me about it.” It was a genuine request, Dex’s voice gentle and coaxing.

“I don’t even know where to start.” A woman carried a wailing toddler through the sliding doors, its shrieks piercing; the sound didn’t help Peter focus.

“Start somewhere easy, then. What happened to your finger?”

“Broken glass. I was leaving work and there was a beer bottle under my car. I ran it over and some of it got embedded in my tire. I was trying to pull it out and, well, turns out glass is sharp.”

“Who knew?” Dex reached over and squeezed his other hand. “That is a shitty day.”

“That’s not the half of it,” Peter said, but before he could go into more detail his name was called by a young man in a white coat and thick horn-rimmed glasses. “You don’t have to—”

“Keep you company? Don’t have to. Want to.”

They went back to an exam area where Peter’s blood pressure and temperature were taken, followed by a history far more detailed than his minor injury required. Throughout it and the stitching of his wound, Dex was a solid presence, not interfering or answering for Peter, but distracting him from the uncomfortable few minutes when the needle piercing his flesh with a question.

“Feel different being on the receiving end?” he asked.

Peter nodded, explaining to the doctor that he was a vet.

“Ah. Well, I’m lucky that my patients don’t bite and scratch.” The doctor paused, then added wryly, “Well, not often.”

The doctor kept his explanation of aftercare brief, assuming Peter knew the basics, and within half an hour, paperwork completed, he was outside, breathing in air scented by lilacs from a stand of wild bushes bordering the parking lot.

“You okay to drive?” Dex asked when they reached Peter’s car.

“Sure. It’s a minor cut, nothing more, but it was too deep to leave to heal without stitches.” Peter contemplated the bandage around his finger. It would make life difficult for him, at work and at home, but he’d manage.

“Are you in the mood for company? I’ll get food if you tell me what you’d like, meet you back at your place.”

“I’m in a shitty mood, but I’m starving, and I need to vent. If you don’t mind listening to that—”

Dex put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, turning him. He was close, inches away, and Peter responded with a rush of emotion he was familiar with now. Every time. Dex touched him, moved near, and he wanted him. Every single time. It was devastating and wonderful.

“I don’t mind at all.”

The kiss was slow and gentle, but it held an intensity of feeling that brought Peter to the brink of tears. Ridiculous. He rubbed his cheek against Dex’s, enjoying the rasp of stubble against his face. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“And you need food. Any preference?”

Even that decision was too much. “No. You choose. And I’m paying for it so keep the receipt.”

Dex patted him on the head. “This one’s on me, but I’ll take a beer if you have one in your fridge.”

Peter batted Dex’s hand away, grinning, his depression lifting. “Don’t do that! I’m not Tank. And yeah, I always have beer.”

It was a relief to know his day was looking up.

Chapter Eleven

Dex used his right hand to steady the paper bag of food as he turned into Peter’s driveway. He’d decided it made sense to swing by his favorite Italian place, in part because carbs were comfort food and in part because it wasn’t too far out of the way, and the last thing he wanted was tomato sauce all over his front seat.

Peter’s front door was open, only the screen keeping the pets inside, but Dex was hesitant to let himself in. Scout and Chico didn’t know him yet, and one trip to the emergency room in a day was more than enough.

“Hey,” he called through the screen. Scout immediately appeared in the front hall, barking in a way that communicated excitement more than aggression.

“Scout, stop! Come on in.” Peter came to take Scout’s collar in hand. “It’s fine, she’s loud not aggressive, I promise. She’ll give up on that too once she’s seen you a few more times.”

“I got Italian. Lasagna and eggplant parmesan, and salad. Rolls and butter. Doesn’t go with beer. I should have stopped to get wine too.” His dismay was mild, but Peter was quick to reassure him.

“Nah, not a big deal. Beer goes with everything.”

“Not everything.” He tried to think of something beer would clash with. “Um, it doesn’t go with dessert. Cheesecake.”

Peter had let go of Scout and led him into the kitchen, where he’d made some effort to clear off the table. “Did you bring cheesecake?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He waited until Dex had set the bag down, then moved in for a kiss. “Thanks for dinner. I appreciate it.”

“Also no big deal. It’s my pleasure. Sit and point me toward where you keep the plates.”

“I cut my finger, I didn’t break my arm,” Peter protested.

Dex took in the paler than usual face and the shadows smudging the skin under Peter’s eyes. “Yeah, but something’s got you wiped out. Let me take care of you. I’m your boyfriend. That means being more than the guy who gets your rocks off. Caring for you is my right. Don’t take it away from me.”

“You see things differently,” Peter murmured, but he showed Dex where he kept dinnerware and sank into a chair at the table while Dex put out the food.

Eating brought some animation into Peter’s expression and some color to his cheeks. Never failed. Fuel the body and the mind kicked up a gear. Dex mopped up his sauce with the final piece of roll, then wiped his mouth with a paper napkin thin enough to read through.

“Not bad. Where do you want the dishes?” He glanced around the small room in search of a dishwasher and failed to spot one.

“No dishwasher. Sink’s fine. Put them in to soak and I’ll handle them later.”

“Or I wash them now and you tell me what’s gone wrong today so I can fix it.”

“Miracle man, huh?”

“You better believe it.” With a flex of his muscles to coax a smile from Peter, Dex set about filling the sink with water. A few plates and some cutlery would take a minute to wash, but waking up to them was no way to start the day. “You’ll need gloves.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to wash dishes while your finger is healing.” It was off topic, but wasn’t that life? “Anyway—sorry—I wasn’t wrong in thinking it was more than the finger bugging you, was I?”

Peter sighed. “No. But it’s a long story.”

“You’ve got me as late as you want me tonight. Take your time.” Dex turned toward the sink and started on the dishes, giving Peter a minute to collect his thoughts if he needed it.

“It started last night, after you—oh shit, I still have your key. Hang on.” Peter left the kitchen, then came back and came up behind Dex, pushing what must be the key to the apartment above the gym into his pocket.

“Hello,” Dex said, stilling.

“Hi. I’m telling you a story.” Peter patted Dex’s ass lightly and moved to sit down again.

Damn. Not that he wasn’t willing to listen to whatever it was that was bothering Peter, but he’d never refuse the opportunity to fool around. “Right.”

“Stefan—that vet that works at my practice—called me. He’s sick of waiting for us to make a decision about him become a partner. He pushed me to say yes and got pissed off when I didn’t. Hung up on me.”

“He sounds like an asshole. And before I forget, I saw how much work you put into tidying my place. Thanks. Blew me away.”

“He might be and you're welcome. Distracted me nicely from Stefan.”

Dex rinsed another dish and set it into the drainer. “Aren’t you the one who gets to make the call? The other vet won't bully you into it or anything?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m the one who’d have to work with him, but she’s the one who wants to retire and he’s the obvious choice to replace her. The other vet who expressed an interest was—anyway, when he started, neither of us knew there were going to be problems. Legally, she can sell her share of the practice to anyone she wants.”

“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to this than a pissy phone call?”

“Because you’re not stupid? I got into work and he was there. Accused me of keying his fancy car trying to scare him off.”

“What?” Dex spun to face Peter. “Why the fuck would he set you up like that? I mean, I haven’t known you all that long, but it’s obviously not something you’d ever do. It’s impossible. So he lied. End of story.”

“I’m ninety percent sure he did it himself—and he worships that car, so it must have killed him.”

“No loss if it had.”

“And…” Peter hesitated. “The security cameras recorded the person doing it. Man in a hoodie. My hoodie that I haven’t seen for a while. It’s a limited edition one and… But I wasn’t the one wearing it and I didn’t do it.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. I know it.” Dex gestured at Peter’s hand, foam bubbles flying up. “So how did the cut happen?”

“Like I told you, I reversed out over a bottle someone must have put behind the tire. No proof it was him, but who else would it be? No flat, but prying glass from the tread wasn’t the best idea I’ve had.”

“Childish, spiteful fucker.” Dex slapped the water in the sink, sending a spray cascading over the drainer. If Stefan had been in the room, he would’ve said it to his face. “How dare he? What right has he got to play these sick games with you?”

“He must want to be a partner the way I want beer to be free. I can’t figure out why else he’d—”

The doorbell rang, the chime of it loud and unexpected. Both dogs barked a reply. The little Chihuahua’s yap was almost laughable, somehow managing to sound hoarse with age and high pitched at the same time. Peter bent down to quiet him with a pat as he passed by on the way to the front door while Dex wiped his hands dry on his jeans.

“We’re looking for Peter Holland,” a man’s voice said, professional.

“That’s me.”

Dex hurried to join him, side stepping the three-legged dog, and found two police officers standing on the porch.

“We’re investigating a report of Stefan Mikaelson’s car having been vandalized.” The taller cop was clean shaven and patient, like a police officer in a sitcom from the sixties. “Do you know anything about that?”

“I know it happened because Stefan told me about it at work this morning,” Peter said. “That’s all I know, though.”

“Dale? Dale Browning?” Dex asked, belatedly recognizing the man. “Is that you or your uglier twin brother?”

The cop glanced at him, eyes narrowed, unfriendly. “Well, if it isn’t little Dexy.”

“If you weren’t in uniform I’d remind you what happened last time you called me that. How’s it going, man?” He stuck out his hand and got an enthusiastic shake, the pretence of hostility from the other man melting into a smile.

“You two know each other?” The second cop was older, a short, stocky man with weary eyes and dark skin.

“On the football team together in high school,” Dex said. He remembered the hand job they’d given each other in the locker room after a rough practice with Coach screaming at them until his voice cracked. Dale had never mentioned it again and Dex wasn’t interested in dragging anyone out of the closet.

“Nice for you. I’m Officer Allan. If we’ve finished with the introductions, can we get on with this?”

“Come in. Please.” Peter stepped back to make room. “I can’t tell you much more.”

“You can tell them what you told me,” Dex pointed out. “How you hurt your hand.”

Peter glared at him. “I don’t have any proof. It’s a theory, that’s all.”

“If you can shed some light on the matter, we’d like to hear it,” Dale said.

The policemen took a seat on the couch, Peter on the armchair and Dex standing beside him, staying out of it since he’d noted Peter’s displeasure at his attempt to speed things up. Fair enough. Dex knew he had a tendency to take charge and it rubbed some people the wrong way. After all, Peter wasn’t some fragile blossom who’d wither in a mild frost. At the moment he resembled a cactus, the dangerously spiky kind.

“I know he blames me for what happened with his car. I don’t know who damaged it, but I can tell you it wasn’t me. I guess checking my record and finding out it’s clean—never so much as a speeding ticket—won’t prove that, though.”

“Your friend mentioned something about your hand?”

Peter nodded. “This morning, Stefan was at our mutual place of employment, accusing me of keying his car. He was pretty angry. Later, when I went to leave, I ran over a beer bottle that must have been right behind my tire, and when I was cleaning up the broken glass I sliced my finger open. So I don’t know if he left the bottle there hoping I’d get a flat, like maybe somehow we’d be even? If he actually believes I’m the one who scratched up his car.”

“Where were you when his car was vandalized?”

“I don’t know,” Peter said bluntly. “When was it vandalized?”

“Well, he doesn’t seem too sure of that, himself. He thinks it must have happened while he was working his previous shift and he didn’t notice until he got home and put the car in the garage.” Officer Allan was being cautious in how much information he shared, Dex could tell.

“Then it’s hard for me to tell you where I was when it happened,” Peter said. “Since you don’t know.” He was being cautious, too. Dex was dying to know why.

Officer Allan asked a few more questions, basic ones about Peter’s birth date—he’d probably use that to look up his record like Peter had suggested—and the best ways to get hold of him if they needed to talk to him again.

“Good to see you,” Dale said at the front door, and shook Dex’s hand with a touch that lingered a little too long.

Once they were alone, Dex rounded on Peter. “Mind telling me why you didn’t mention the security footage?”

“Because I didn’t want to leave here in handcuffs?”

Dex rolled his eyes. “For keying a car? I’m surprised they bothered to follow up the report, to be honest. Stefan must have either made one hell of a fuss or he knows someone and pulled strings.”

Peter ran his uninjured hand through his hair. Dex knew how soft that mass of red curls was. “Probably both. And how well did you know that Dale guy? For a high school buddy you haven’t seen in years, he seemed pretty friendly.”

Was that flash of jealousy flattering or not? Hard to decide. But Dex knew it wasn’t relevant to the conversation. And with Peter around, he’d barely spared Dale a glance. “Stop deflecting. That footage—”

“Incriminates me. My hoodie, a time when I didn’t have an alibi—”

“I’ll say it again. Keyed car. Not a big deal.”

“Whatever! I’m not handing them evidence. If it’s not serious, they won’t follow up. If they do…” Peter swallowed convulsively. “They’ll find out about it soon enough.”

“Yeah, and wonder why you didn’t tell them about it. Look, we can call Dale, explain—”

“You call him.” Peter snapped. “Make a date with him if you want. Or arrange a threesome? Is that something he’d be into?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Dex held up his hands, regretting his outburst as soon as it’d happened. “Okay, no. Not doing this. Not fighting, not making things worse. I’ll go if you want, but can we calm down and talk, or calm down and not talk about it? Anything but this friction.”

Peter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s—can we go sit down? On the couch? I think sitting.”

It wasn’t a complete sentence, but it was enough to communicate what he meant, so Dex nodded and they moved into the living room. Scout had claimed the comfortable-looking chair so they settled on the couch, side by side with a few inches between them.

“Would it be okay…?” Peter gestured at him and Dex lifted an arm to welcome him closer.

God, it felt good to have Peter pressed against him, warm and firm, seeking and giving comfort at the same time. Dex closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of Peter’s hair. “This is better.”

“Much better.” Peter’s arm was resting across Dex’s stomach, his bandaged hand right there where it might get jostled. Dex would have to be careful not to let that happen. “Sorry. You’re probably right about the security footage.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. You’re allowed to disagree with me.” Dex wasn’t sure why it felt important to tell Peter that.

“It felt like it would be something I couldn’t unsay.” Peter was quiet for a few seconds, then tried again. “I mean, technically you can’t unsay anything, but this was important. Part of me thought they were going to bring it up. They didn’t mention having talked to Fer—wouldn’t they have gone to talk to her, since it’s her property Stefan’s claiming it happened on?”

“You’d think. Maybe they’re going to talk to her next.”

“She’d have to tell them about the footage.” Peter sighed again. “I don’t understand how all of a sudden I’m in so much trouble when I didn’t even _do_ anything.”

“Because you stood up to a spoiled baby who thinks he only has to ask for something to be given it. Which in my book means you did do something. You did the right thing.”

“Thanks.” Peter tilted his head and Dex took a kiss so sweet any dentist would’ve winced. “You make me feel better, you know that? As if with you on my side, I’m the winner before the fight starts.”

“No fighting between us though.” Dex kissed him back, taking his time, exploring every way to make Peter sigh and press closer, losing himself in the pleasure of necking like a teenager. Usually one kiss, hard, closed-mouthed, or two, and it was down to the sex, but he wanted to take his time with Peter, seduce him, wake his body until it ached for release.

And make him forget this damned mess for an hour or so, at least.

He shifted position until Peter lay against the arm of the couch, cushions under him. “Lie there,” he murmured. “Let me make you feel even better. Please?”

Eyes wide, then sliding half-closed, Peter nodded, relaxing but with an air of expectancy, as if he wasn’t sure what Dex had planned.

Dex didn’t know either, but he doubted he’d have trouble thinking of ways to make Peter happy. Less clothes, lots of kissing and touching, and they’d see where it went from there.

Simple, like the best plans.

Peter was still in his work clothes, which were the equivalent of scrubs—hell, for all Dex knew they were scrubs—and easy to take off him. Dex still took his time, pressing his mouth to each bit of skin as he uncovered it. The little divot near Peter’s collarbone was his favorite at first, then when he heard the soft gasp that escaped Peter’s lips when his tongue licked across a bared nipple, _that_ became his favorite.

“You like that?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Peter whispered. “Do that some more.”

Letting Peter’s discarded shirt fall to the carpet, Dex focused on one nipple, sucking until it tightened into a point and Peter’s breath came fast and eager. Only then did he move to the other, paying it the same level of attention. Peter’s good hand was clutching the shoulder of the T-shirt he was wearing, making him torn between enjoying the pull of the fabric and wishing he’d taken the shirt off.

“Take yours off, too,” Peter said, tugging at it.

“Okay, that’s creepy. Now you’re reading my mind.” Dex shifted up and kissed him.

Peter pushed him away. “Creepy?”

Dex smiled. “No. Not creepy. I like it.”

“You’re not always easy to read.” Peter’s forehead creased as if he were trying to pierce flesh and bone to see Dex’s thoughts. “You go in different directions. You say stuff I don’t expect.”

“Yeah? And is that good or bad?” He peeled off his T-shirt, knowing, without vanity, but some pride, he looked damn good topless. The pride he figured was allowable. He’d sweated and suffered to get his muscles defined. What he looked like in general was what he’d been born with; nothing to be proud of there. It was what it was. But his physique was different.

Deliberately, slowly, he ran his finger across his chest, stroking his nipples until they hardened, matching Peter’s.

“What?” Peter’s eyes were glazed, his attention for sure not on Dex’s question. “You’re so hot. I want to—”

“Yeah?” Dex encouraged him. “What? Do it, whatever it is.”

Peter raised himself and gripped Dex’s upper arm with his good hand, fingers spread. “I couldn’t wrap my hands around your arm if my hands were twice their size.”

“No,” Dex agreed. Where was this was going?

“But if I told you not to move, you would. I could hold you in place that way.”

Lust sizzled through him. “Yeah.” God, his voice was raw, ragged and hoarse as if he’d been screaming. “You sure could.”

“That turns you on.” Peter looked regretfully at his bandaged finger. “When this is better, I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

“Hope that’s not your way of saying I’m not getting lucky tonight.” He was mostly teasing, because of course they’d stop if Peter wanted to, but when thinking about Peter was enough to make him hard, calling it quits now would be pure torture.

“We’re both getting lucky tonight,” Peter assured him. “Not here, though. The first time I fuck you, I want to do it in my bed.” His eyes were dark with arousal. “Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He had to adjust his erection inside his jeans before he could walk, and then he almost tripped over the tiny Chihuahua. A black and white cat Dex hadn’t seen before was curled up near the pillows when they went into the bedroom; she blinked as they came in, then her eyes widened and she jumped down onto the floor and disappeared under the bed.

“Oreo,” Peter said. “She won’t be any trouble.”

“Good. Not a big fan of being interrupted by pets in the middle of sex.” Dex reached for the button on his jeans but didn’t undo it yet. “Can I take these off?”

“You’d better.”

“Might make life difficult if I keep them on.” God, listen to him joke like a nervous newbie.

“Might,” Peter agreed, leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching. “And take off whatever you’re wearing under them too. I want to see you naked. You’re too fucking gorgeous to wear clothes.”

“Interesting idea. Me naked all day.”

“Maybe we could go to a nudist resort for a vacation.”

Dex paused, down to one sock, the other in his hand. “For real?”

“Maybe not.” There was regret in Peter’s voice. “I don’t think walking around with a hard-on is considered good manners and I wouldn’t be able to help it if I had you in sight.”

“Same goes for me.” Dex balled his socks to give himself something to do, then tossed them aside. Hands on hips, he met Peter’s gaze. “So you like what you see?”

“You know I do. And I like the man inside it too. You’re the full package, Dex. I don’t know how long I’ve got with you, but I want to make every minute count.”

Odd how Peter’s insecurities mostly faded during sex, only to pop up when Dex wasn’t expecting them.

“Sit down on the bed,” Peter ordered.

Dex obeyed as Peter took off his clothes, letting them lie where they fell. He wasn’t as muscle bound as most of the guys Dex had slept with, but despite what society told him, that didn’t matter in the slightest. His gaze mapped Peter’s body, from his nipples across his chest—his chest hair was curly and reddened, too—and down over the swell of his belly. His cock, slightly bigger than average and with a slight curve to it when it was hard, stuck up eagerly, anxious for Dex’s attention. “Can I suck you?” he asked without thinking.

Peter reached down and circled his left hand around the base of his erection, supporting it. “You want to?”

“God, yeah.” Want? Need. His mouth watered, desire flooding him. “Let me.”

“You’re not an easy man to say no to,” Peter said, and moved closer until he was within reach. “Don’t make me come, though. I have other plans tonight.”

Leaning forward, Dex gently pushed Peter’s hand out of the way and replaced it with his, angling Peter’s cock so he could slide it into his mouth. He groaned as it pushed in over his tongue, the taste of Peter’s skin almost overwhelming him. Jesus, he loved this. Loved every inch of it, ached to have it up his ass even though that wasn’t something he’d done often.

His asshole clenched, relaxed, as if preparing itself for what was to come and he couldn’t bear the emptiness. Though he wasn’t bringing the subject up in even a theoretical way ever again in his freaking life, it was why he got off on threesomes. Mouth and ass crammed full of cock? Yes, please. But since he only wanted Peter and Peter wasn’t a twin—and even if he were, there was no way his twin could match Peter for sheer lovability and hotness—that fantasy would stay unfulfilled.

He closed the lid on his eagerness and focused on bringing Peter close to spilling, craving the change of taste as Peter’s climax neared, then backing off, doing it a few times before Peter’s moans turned anguished.

“Enough?” he asked, taking his mouth away from the succulent, flushed flesh he’d sucked tender.

“Yeah. Feels good, but it’s too much if I’m going to fuck you.” Peter got a wicked look in his eyes. “Blow on it. Cool me off.”

“Heh. Okay.” Dex pursed his lips, rubbery from his efforts, and got close enough that the stream of air emerging from them passed over the exposed head of Peter’s cock.

Peter all but squeaked in surprise, then shuddered. “Shit. Cold!”

“I can stop.” Dex blew again, playing his exhaled breath over the shaft this time, getting into the game.

“Pretty sure that’s not why they call it a blow job,” Peter said, interrupting things by resting two fingertips against Dex’s lower lip. “Suck on these instead.”

Yeah, he could do that, and not only because he knew where Peter would put them next. God. It was a mystery to him how he could be so eager for it when he’d always considered getting fucked as fine in theory, but a letdown in reality. Why was he so convinced that with Peter it would be different? Not that it mattered. If Peter wanted it, he knew it'd turn him on.

He slicked Peter’s fingers with an avid mouth, licking and being playful with his teeth, but it was only a minute before Peter said, “Enough,” and pushed him down on the bed. Flat on his back, Dex gazed up at Peter as the man situated himself, propped up on his left arm while the right reached down and—

“Oh, fuck!” Dex shuddered at the feel of Peter’s hand wrapped around his cock. Wasting all that slick he’d created, not that he’d complain because Peter touching him was good, God, so good. His dick was close to exploding and Peter wasn’t even doing much, stroking him a little bit, slowly, experimenting.

The bandage scraping his skin reminded him that maybe Peter needed some help. He cleared his throat, and dragged words out of what had been his brain until arousal turned it to a fuzzy cloud. “Want to pass me some lube and a condom?”

“I’ve got them right here.” Peter reached under the pillow and wiggled his eyebrows at Dex’s surprised look. “Prepared. But why do _you_ want them?”

“Cut finger?”

“Oh! I can manage though. At least…”

“Let me.” God was he begging not asking? He was. Shit, he had it bad. “Want to suit you up then get myself ready for your cock while you watch.”

The jolt that sent through Peter was a sign Dex wasn’t the only one who found the idea a turn on. Peter’s chin jerked up and he sucked in air. “Okay. Yes.”

“Cool.” Feeling relaxed and happy, Dex set about his self-appointed task, first arranging Peter into a comfortable position then squirting some lube onto his fingers. Too much lube—even if there was no such thing as too much lube, this was, too much, running over the edges of his palm and along his wrist. He wasn’t annoyed with himself the way he sometimes might have been, because in a minute everything would be amazing and neither of them would care about the mess.

“I like a man who doesn’t know his own strength,” Peter said, gently teasing. Dex’s eyes met his and the slow burn he’d been feeling moved upward from his belly into his chest.

He didn’t have it bad. He was fucking in love with this man, head to toes, and he knew in his heart that was never gonna change.

Whatever he was feeling must have shown on his face; Peter frowned. “Hey, what?”

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s all good.” Dex knew this wasn’t the time to share this particular revelation. Not when they hadn’t even fucked yet.

Soon, though.

“You ready?” He lifted his dick up, cupping his balls and using his thumb to hold his shaft out of the way so Peter could watch as he slowly pushed one finger inside himself, careful so his body could adjust. It had been a long time and he wasn’t crazy about the idea of fucking this up. If Peter hurt him, it would be by accident, and he could live with that. He was pretty sure he could forgive Peter anything. Hurting himself now and risking not being able to let Peter push his way inside him, though, that he wouldn’t be able to forgive.

Peter licked his upper lip. “How’s it feel?”

“S’okay. Wish it was your dick instead. God, I can’t wait.” He withdrew his finger a little and then pushed deeper.

The sound Peter made didn’t come close to a word, but it got the message across: neither could he, and he appreciated the floorshow.

Good. Dex wanted Peter to enjoy this to the max, every sense engaged and satisfied. He wanted to be the best Peter had ever had and keep it that way. It was no more than Peter deserved.

Two fingers burned, but in a pleasurable way, his body giving him the deep surrender he needed to make the fucking work. Odd to feel an asshole clench and clutch at his fingers and have it be his flesh own he felt. Even when he jerked off, he didn’t often do this. Big mistake. Changing angles and pressure to ramp up the pleasure, his dick drooling, balls tight, he drove himself onward, spurred by the encouraging sounds from Peter and the intense heat in his eyes.

“Stop,” Peter said. “You look so close. Stop.” Breathing heavy and fast, he lunged in, licking Dex’s cock, then sucking the tip, a swift assault that left Dex arching off the bed, desperate to cram his cock deep. But Peter had already drawn back.

“Didn’t put the condom on me. Going to have to do it myself now that your hands are messed up.”

Dex winked. “I could use my mouth.” It was a party trick of his he’d demonstrated on half a dozen bananas over the years when he had an audience on his wavelength—and enough alcohol swimming around his system.

“No way.” Peter sounded both impressed and doubtful. Before Dex could assure him it was true, he said, “Show me.”

“Gotta get it out of the packet first,” Dex said, then looked down at his hands, slick with lube. “Um, maybe you will have to do that part.”

Peter reached for the condom, ripped the foil open neatly—a little too neatly, like a man who’d used a lot of condoms in his day, and set the condom on the tip of his erection. Experienced. How much experience? “It’s a party hat,” he said solemnly, then cracked a grin.

Dex lost it; he fell onto the mattress, heedless of the way his hands smeared lube on the sheets, and laughed until tears came to his eyes. At first Peter laughed with him, but eventually stopped. Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, Dex said, “Laughing with you. I swear. You’re amazing, that’s all. You keep surprising me.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“The best.” He rested his head on Peter’s shoulder for a few seconds. “God, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”

“I like hearing it.” Peter’s hand settled on his skull, stroking it. “You should do it more often.”

“Maybe I will, if you keep making jokes about party hats.” Shifting, Dex kissed him, then glanced down again. “Speaking of which…”

He talked Peter through placing the condom against his lips, then bent over and put it where it needed to go, regretting the taste of latex, as always, but relishing Peter’s hum of pleasure. It was a practical task, but the point was to make it sexy, an intimate act, and he managed it, taking his time, using his mouth to roll it over Peter’s rigid cock as slowly as possible. No air bubbles, condom seated securely, and he raised his head.

Peter’s eyes were dark, face flushed. “Lie back. If I don’t get inside you soon…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but since Dex was moving into position after the first words, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t hurt. That was his first thought and the last coherent one for some time. Peter knew what he was doing and he didn’t hurry the initial breaching of tight muscles. Gaze fixed on Dex, murmuring disjointed approval and encouragement, he worked his sheathed cock deep, gaining and conceding ground, each slow thrust going a little deeper, until Dex held every inch of that thick, hard cock in his ass.

He closed his eyes. Had to. The love and delight in Peter’s face—it was love, wasn’t it? He wasn’t seeing a reflection?—pierced him as deeply as Peter’s flesh.

Peter kissed him, slow and careful, lips soft as they sucked on each of Dex’s in turn. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Dex couldn’t manage more than that one word, yearning for Peter to move. This limbo, the two of them connected, was both too perfect to last and, he knew, would be impossibly more perfect in the moment Peter drew back and thrust forward with force. “Please.” It was torture to force the word out.

“This is gonna be so good.”

They moved together, Dex joining in as soon as he felt Peter’s control snap. If it had been him doing the fucking, he would have let his partner set the pace—cautious if the other man was hesitant, brutal if the other man was wild—but Peter couldn’t have done that, because Dex had no idea what he wanted. Not intellectually, anyway. His body seemed to be on board with what they were doing, though; his lower back curved to ease the friction of Peter’s cock against his hole, and the change in angle meant Peter’s cock head rubbed against his prostate. It was like the heat and bright white flashes of a sparkler, making him shudder and reach for Peter’s ass, pulling him in harder, deeper.

He had no idea what Peter’s hands were doing. His mouth was at Dex’s nipple, biting it, scraping across it with sharp teeth. What the hell was happening? How was it even possible that Peter was so good at this, and what would it have been like to have missed it? Dex opened his eyes and looked up past the tangle of Peter’s red curls at the ceiling, trying to make sense of where he was and what was being done to him, but nothing made sense. His dick was hard, his ass stretched wide by Peter’s shaft, his nipples on fire. It was like being used, but not in a bad way. He was grateful, overwhelmed, and more aroused than he’d ever been in his life.

“Tell me,” Peter gasped, sucking at his neck in one spot with enough force that Dex knew he’d have a bruise. “When you’re—”

“I’m… definitely…” He was gonna come soon, he knew it. “Almost—”

“I don’t want to—until you do.” They were moving faster now, rutting against each other.

“Do it. Come. Take me with you.”

He gasped it out, a plea not a command, and Peter cried out and tensed, holding still, then breaking that pause, delivering frenzied, hammering thrusts that grabbed Dex’s climax and tore it from him.

He clutched Peter to him, not retreating into private pleasure, but sharing the intensity with the cause of it, the two of them one for precious, fleeting moments.

“Love you.” His voice cracked on what was little more than a whisper, but he didn’t let the words slip away unheard by anyone but himself. Stronger, louder, he repeated his declaration and let Peter decide what to do. It didn’t seem fair to love someone and not tell them, to keep a secret from the man who was the most important part of his life.

Peter collapsed onto him, face buried in his neck, panted breath hot against Dex’s skin. He moved his good hand to Dex’s arm above his elbow and squeezed. His cock was still hard inside Dex. “You, too,” he said. He pushed himself up and met Dex’s gaze. “Say it one more time.”

“I love you.” It was terrifying and thrilling.

“I love you, too,” Peter repeated, more strongly this time. “For real. Not just sex.”

“Not just sex.” Dex wrapped both legs around Peter and pulled him down again for a tight hug. “Although that doesn’t hurt. Jesus. You’re amazing.”

“You’re amazing. That was intense.” Peter groaned softly and eased himself away, cock slipping free with a sensation that made Dex wince. “Sorry—gotta move.” He turned to sit on the side of the bed and Dex could hear him removing the condom and then the sound of it being tossed into the trash. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Fuck. That couldn’t be good.

“Okay. Don’t be gentle. Do it all at once like pulling off a bandage.” Dex sat up, bracing himself.

“It’s not—I think you have this idea about who I am, and I don’t think it’s entirely accurate.” The line of Peter’s shoulders was tense.

“Bandage,” Dex reminded him when his pause went on a little too long.

“I’ve slept with a lot of men.” Peter spat it out. “Not recently, not at all since my last relationship ended, but before that. A lot.”

That didn’t sound so bad. “What’s a lot?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t keep track. Two hundred? More, maybe.”

The number of Dex’s partners wasn’t one he’d kept track of either. More than twenty? Yeah, had to be. Fifty? Possibly, but he doubted it. There hadn’t been _time_. Or he hadn’t made time.

“Safe?”

It was a question that covered a huge, messy area and the relief when Peter nodded without flinching or guilt was equally huge. “Always,” Peter added. “I get tested every three months. Never an issue. I like sex. I like variety. I’m not stupid.”

Still absorbing the new information, Dex asked, “Where did you meet them?”

“Online mostly once I left university. Bars. Clubs.” Peter shook his head ruefully. “My student days, I went through every gay guy on campus, I think. Never dated them openly; it wasn’t all that liberal a place, but we all knew each other after a year or so and I went wild. Didn’t drink much, no drugs, but I fucked someone most nights pretty much, looking back.”

In his early twenties, if the opportunity had been there, Dex would’ve done the same, so he didn’t judge. He’s been a horny fucker and if the desperate need for sex had eased in the decade that followed, it wasn’t so far in the past he couldn’t remember how it felt, his body craving release, arousal triggered by the sight of a tight ass or a come hither glance.

“Are we talking full-on sexual addiction or you living the teenage dream to the max?” Dex asked bluntly. “Not judging, but I’d like to know what you’re telling me here.”

Peter looked tempted to walk out of the room, which didn’t do a lot to reassure Dex, but he stayed. “I don’t think I was addicted. I had a few relationships here and there, and I was never unfaithful to anyone I had an understanding with. Didn’t want to be. I mean, I wasn’t tempted, even when things got rocky and our sex life died out. It was only when I was single. Does that sound like sex addiction to you?”

Dex wasn't a therapist. What did he know? “No. What was different when your most recent relationship ended?”

“I don’t know. Nothing that I can think of, and I’ve spent some time mulling it over, believe me. My sex drive wasn’t lower, I didn’t want all those one-night stands anymore.” Peter turned to look at him. “I’m sorry. I should have told you before this. I kept arguing with myself about whether I had to or not, because I do think the past is the past, you know? You don’t owe me any explanations about what you were up to before we met.”

“You don’t owe me any, either.” Dex wasn’t sure he was glad Peter had told him—it might have been easier not knowing—but part of him understood it. “Well, at least now I know how you got so good at fucking.”

Peter blushed. “Lots of practice?”

“As long as that’s all it was.” Reaching out, Dex rested his hand on Peter’s thigh, feeling the springy curls against his palm. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, or whatever you thought I might be. There’s nothing wrong with doing stuff that feels good as long as you’re not hurting anyone in the process.”

“But something about it’s bothering you.”

Why deny it? And why hide his feelings? “Yeah. Will I be enough for you? I can keep you happy and satisfied in the short term, I’m sure of it. Never had any complaints. But a year down the road, when you get bored, what then? We bring someone in? A threesome every month of so with a random guy? I’m not sure I’d want that. At least…”

He couldn’t articulate his needs when he wasn’t sure what they were. Tugged in different directions, still wiped out from his recent climax, he wasn’t in a good place to go deep and meaningful on any topic other than who showered first. And since he was the one with an asshole leaking lube, it should be him.

“I don’t want that, either. I promise. Somewhere along the way I took a fork in the road I hadn’t considered before and ended up on a different street entirely. A different city. This is new to me, but I was already here. The switch was already flipped; meeting you didn’t do it. God, I don’t know if any of this makes sense, but please believe me when I say that part of my life’s over. I want this with you.”

It should have been easy to believe him when Dex wanted to so badly, but he couldn’t quite get there. Still, there was no way he would do anything except hang in and hope, so he leaned over and kissed Peter. “I have a serious question for you,” he said, making sure his tone was light so Peter would know he was teasing.

“Yeah?”

“Is your shower big enough for two? Or are we going to have to arm wrestle for it?”

Peter smiled, though there was still a hint of worry in his eyes. “I think we both know who’d win if we had to arm wrestle, but yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s big enough for two if they’re friendly.”

“We’re more than friendly,” Dex told him, meaning it, and saw the worry fade.

Chapter Twelve

If Peter wasn’t singing it was because the Save-Mart didn’t have great acoustics and even if it had, his audience of shoppers pushing carts around with expressions ranging from harassed to bored depending on how many toddlers were with them, seemed unreceptive.

Inside, though, he was blasting out show tunes. It’d been a good week. His life had been picked up, shaken hard, and somehow the pieces had fallen into a new, perfect pattern. Dex had been understanding and accepting without asking a zillion questions about Peter’s past for one. The relief had freed Peter to the extent that he’d let Dex seem him at his most passionate and Dex had kept pace with him every step of the way. The background music in Peter’s head switched to a sultry beat, his traitorous face flushing hot.

Oh yeah, confession was good for the soul and body in his opinion.

On the work front, he’d been brave and asked Fer about the tape. She’d given him a glance as blank as untouched snow and told him it’d been routinely wiped and the police had said in that case there was nothing they could do.

He couldn’t let it rest like that, but Fer had silenced him with a terse sentence. “I know it wasn’t you and if it was Stefan, well, it’s his car.”

Stefan had been avoiding him as much as possible and the gossip among the staff was that he was considering taking a position in a practice some thirty miles away. Peter wasn’t sure how much truth there was to that. Stefan seemed too tenacious to give up after one setback. Still, it might be true and if it was, he’d approach the tedious chore of interviewing a replacement with, yes, a song in his heart.

Maybe if he hummed under his breath? He needed an outlet for the happiness bubbling up and his smile at the elderly lady sorting through tomatoes and muttering about their softness had gotten him a fierce glare, while his grin at a screaming toddler had made matters much, much worse.

He chose some fresh broccoli—he would roast it until it was no longer raw but still had a hint of crispness to it—and a couple of oranges, then reviewed the contents of his cart. He hadn’t forgotten anything, so all that was left was a stop at the fish counter for some salmon. Tonight he'd cook Dex the best meal he’d ever had and serve it in the dining room with candles, a romantic dinner to round out a wonderful week.

There was a wait in front of the deli and fish counter, the two employees running back and forth as they filled requests. The crowd made it impossible to stand out of the way. Peter was loitering near the number dispenser, hedged in by a woman with two school aged kids and a man about his age with his foot in a walking cast, when someone bumped his arm while reaching past him to take a number.

“Sorry,” Peter said automatically, even though it hadn’t been his fault.

“No problem.” The voice and disdainful tone were familiar. Peter turned to find Stefan close enough to kiss, not that he would want to do that in a million years.

He didn’t know how to respond. Seriously? Of all the people he could literally bump into at the supermarket, it had to be the person he least wanted to see?

“Aren't you a vegetarian?” Stefan’s tone was cool and judgmental.

“Pescetarian.” Again his words were automatic, verging on polite. though he didn’t owe Stefan any explanations and probably should have said, ‘How is that any of your business?’

“Silly fad.” The dismissive hand wave killed what was left of Peter’s good mood, pinching out the tiny flame of joy and leaving him smoldering. “We’re meant to eat across the whole spectrum of foods available. Look at our ancestors.”

Glancing into Stefan’s cart, Peter said, “I’m sure cavemen loved getting their teeth into quinoa salad and wagyu steaks at sixty bucks a portion. And is that a box of Twinkies behind the bag of organic mesclun? Yeah, you’ve got all the food groups there. Congrats.”

“They’re for my nephew. He’s got a sweet tooth.” Stefan seemed unflappable and part of Peter envied him that confidence.

Much to his relief, his number was called. “Well, my salmon is wild, and I will I be too if I don’t beat the rush hour traffic. See you at work.” He edged past Stefan only to find his path blocked by Stefan’s cart. “I need to get by.”

Stefan’s regretful smile was as fake as the cream in the Twinkies. “Sorry, the wheels are wedged.”

His number was called again and he wrenched his own cart to the side, brushing against Stefan’s pant leg in the process and drawing a dramatic cry of pain from the man. Ignoring him, Peter waved at the woman behind the counter, but with a toss of her head, she went onto the next number. Peter glanced at the ticket dispenser. There were five people ahead of him now if he had to take a new number, and he’d already been waiting ten minutes for his turn.

Another day this wouldn’t have bothered him. He’d have sighed and gone back to waiting, but today he had important things to do. “Excuse me,” he said loudly. “You skipped my number. Twenty-two?”

The woman who’d dismissed him weighed out what looked like potato salad for customer number twenty-three. The tall older man behind the counter handed a wrapped package across to another customer and glanced back at the lit up ‘number being served’ sign on the wall. “You’re twenty-two?”

“He wasn’t even here,” Stefan lied, dropping his ticket into the basket on the counter. “I’m twenty-four, so I’m next. Give me a pound of the cajun roast beef and half a pound of the honey roasted low salt turkey.”

The older man didn’t seem to enjoy Stefan’s lack of manners. “If he has twenty-two, sir, I’ll need to help him first.” He took the ticket Peter thrust at him and glanced at, nodding at Peter. “What can I get for you?”

“Could I have a pound and a half of the wild salmon, please?” Peter was caught between triumph at coming out on top and a strong need to prove he could be polite even if Stefan couldn’t.

Stefan muttered something under his breath, glaring at Peter darkly.

“You know I was first,” Peter told him. “Don’t try to pretend otherwise. I mean, I get that you’re a good liar—”

“Fuck you,” Stefan snarled, and punched him in the face.

The blow was ill aimed, maybe half hearted, and glanced off Peter’s cheek bone, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. He couldn’t hit Stefan back when his hand wasn’t at a hundred percent. Someone nearby gasped, and someone else swiftly grabbed hold of Stefan and tugged him a few steps backward by his shirt sleeve.

Reeling from the shock of the squabble turning physical, his face throbbing hot and tender, Peter lunged at Stefan, hissing out the man’s name as if it were the worst insult imaginable. He didn’t get far. An arm came across his chest, barring the way, and he found himself staring at Luis, who was acting as a barrier.

“Leave it,” Luis told him in a soft, rapid mutter. “Don’t retaliate.”

Nodding jerkily, Peter retreated a step. Stefan twisted free and took aim at Luis who snorted in pure derision, angling himself so the half-hearted blow missed him, leaving Stefan off balance.

The crowd waiting to be served parted, revealing a store manager wearing a red jacket and a frown, cell phone in his hand. Peter knew he was trying to decide whether or not to call the police, and it was hard to blame him.

The publicity would be terrible for the practice. Without thinking it through, Peter said, “Hey, don’t. It’s okay. We know each other. We’ll go. No more trouble, I swear.”

Stefan didn’t seem prepared to stick around. He was already headed for the door, grocery cart abandoned. No one tried to stop him.

“You know that guy?” The manager was frowning.

“It’s a long story, but yeah. We said a few things, he got riled up and hit me. Maybe I had it coming. But look, he’s gone, and I’ll go too if you want me to.” It would mean another trip to a different grocery store with his cheek aching, but doing something nice for Dex was worth it. No way was he letting Stefan ruin what he and Dex had.

The manager studied him for a long minute. “You’re the one who got hit,” he said finally. “If you say you don’t want anything done about it, I guess that’s up to you. Finish your shopping, and don’t let me find out the two of you get into it again later in the parking lot.”

“You won’t,” Luis said. Somewhere along the way he’d wrapped a hand around Peter’s arm, whether holding him back or holding him up Peter wasn’t sure. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah, you look like you would.”

As people around them slowly returned to their business, Luis let go of Peter and straightened his shirt for him. “You okay? Bet you’ll have a hell of a shiner.”

“I’m fine. Not sure what happened. That kind of came out of nowhere.”

“Ex?”

For a moment Peter didn’t get it, then he translated from a letter to a word and shook his head. That made the pain swell and burst under his skin so he stopped. “No. He works for me and he’s pissed he can’t buy in as a partner.”

“And this is his way of persuading you he’s good with animals? Wow.”

“Still want the salmon?”

Peter turned his head—slowly, slowly—and saw the man behind the counter holding out a wrapped parcel. “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry—”

“Take the fish.”

It was said with an eye roll but the tone was friendly. Peter added the fish to his cart and tugged his shopping list out of his pocket. He hadn’t finished, but he had all he needed for the meal.

“Anything I can get for you? I could meet you at the checkout with it. The lines are long, so I’d have time.” Luis smiled, warm if tentative. “A juicy steak?”

“I don’t eat meat.”

“For your face, not your stomach.”

“Oh! I wouldn’t buy it for any reason, but I read it’s not a good idea to do that. Too many bacteria on raw meat.”

“You must be fun at parties.” Luis had a way of being insulting without hurting your feelings, somehow. It was a strange thought for Peter to have, especially considering how badly he’d damaged Dex’s.

“Yeah, well. I’m a little off my game.” He knew he owed Luis his gratitude. “Thanks. For stepping in when you did. That could have been a lot worse.”

Luis nodded and walked beside him as he started pushing his cart toward the front of the store. “That guy’s bad news. He’s your employee? You might want to think about firing him.”

“It’s not that simple. Damn, this hurts.” Pausing in the aisle next to a selection of jarred Indian sauces and jasmine rice, he rummaged in the cart for something cool he could press to his sore cheek, but nothing was much cooler than room temperature except for the fish and there was no way he was holding that to his face.

“Here, let me see.” Luis tucked his shopping—a paper wrapped sandwich from the pre-made lunch case—under his arm and touched Peter’s face with gentle hands, studying him. “I’m not any kind of doctor, but I think you’re okay. Nothing broken, I mean.”

“He didn’t hit me that hard.” Peter looked at Luis’s dark eyes until they met his. “You know, after what happened with Elliot, I don’t think Dex would be too thrilled with this.”

“What, me saving your bacon?”

“That’s vegetarian bacon to you.” Peter couldn’t help smiling. “He took that whole thing to heart.”

“I know. You think I don’t know that?” Luis sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve tried apologizing but he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s being irrational. He wasn’t in love with Elliot and whatever was between them was going nowhere.”

“But he loves you.” Seeing the shock on Luis’s face, Peter added, “As a friend, but if you think that changes how hurt he was, you’re wrong. You betrayed him. Not Elliot, you. And loyalty and trust mean everything to him.”

“I knew that, but I guess I never saw it as relevant, because he was my buddy. My brother. Along with Shannon, he was the last person in the world I’d want to hurt.”

“He misses you,” Peter offered. “He talks about you, then remembers and stops, and I see it’s killing him that you’re—”

“Dead to him?” Luis sighed, thrusting his hand through his lustrous hair without ruining its orderly waves. Not a skill Peter had. “Melodramatic, musclebound ape. I miss him too and you can tell him that. Okay, let’s get going. I’m sticking around until I see you safe in your car. That guy had an ugly look on his face. I wouldn’t put it past him to key your car or something. What? Why are you laughing?”

“That’s part of the long story.” Peter explained, trying to keep it brief, while they waited in line for him to check out.

Luis insisted on following him out to the car, even helping him load the bags into the trunk and not commenting on the piles of junk they had to push out of the way. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course. You did me a huge one.”

“It’s not a trade off, though. You don’t have to say yes because I happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Luis took out his car keys from his pocket and swung them around by the ring. A nervous habit because he was afraid Peter would say no? Or something he did, a meaningless quirk? It was hard to read someone who was virtually a stranger.

He shut the trunk and shoved the empty cart into the corral where it clattered into its companions. “You have to ask me.”

“Right.” Luis took a deep breath and let it out. “Help me come up with a plan to smooth things over with Dex?”

Alarmed, Peter said, “I won’t go behind his back. Or arrange for him to be somewhere you are and spring it on him.”

“Yeah, that would make him pissed off at both of us.”

“The last thing I want is for him to be mad at me.” Peter grimaced, achingly aware of the shitty position he was in. “I’m in love with him.”

“Love? For real?”

Stung by Luis’s evident surprise, Peter snapped, “Yes. Sorry if it doesn’t make sense to you and Elliot, but—”

“Hey!” Luis raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Makes perfect sense. He’s worth loving.”

A woman wheeled her cart past them, berating a screaming child, then slapping his leg. Luis shared a wince with Peter when the child’s wails went high enough to shatter glass. “Not the ideal place for a conversation about romance.”

Peter’s foot was a yard away from a spilled bag of salad, ripe and rotting in the sunlight. He couldn’t disagree.

“I don’t want you to do anything that’ll mess things up for you two,” Luis said. “But I miss him, and you said he misses me. There has to a way to work through this.”

For a couple of tough guys, they sure were soft-hearted. “Let me think about it and see if I can come up with something.”

Luis nodded. “Can’t ask for anything more than that. Now go home and put an ice pack on that cheek of yours.”

He drove back to his house distracted by glancing into the rearview mirror, hoping he’d see that the reddened mark under his eye was fading. Unfortunately, it was doing the opposite, growing darker as bruising appeared. There was no way he’d be able to hide it from Dex.

Should have bought the damned steak.

Jackie’s car was in her driveway on the other side of the lawn, so he texted her: Got a minute? before getting out and starting to take the groceries inside. As he’d expected, she came to meet him rather than bothering to respond by phone, showing up as he went back outside for a second trip.

“Hey, what’s—oh my God, what happened to your face?”

“Shit. I was hoping it wouldn’t be noticeable.”

“Are you kidding? Go sit down and let me get you some ice.”

He’d lived next to Jackie for almost a decade and knew better than to argue with her when she got an idea into her head, so he let her fuss over him, putting a bag of long-ignored frozen vegetables into a dish towel and making him hold it to his cheek.

“Hang there for a few and I’ll get the rest of the groceries.” She did that, then unpacked the bags, putting the cold things into the refrigerator and freezer but leaving the rest of the stuff he’d bought lined up on the countertop. “Let me see. Hm. Yeah, that’s not good. You still didn’t tell me how it happened. Did you get head butted by a mastiff or something?”

“I could make up a great story, but the truth is, I was punched by an employee with a grudge in the middle of the supermarket.”

“No way!”

“Do people still say ‘way!’ back?”

Jackie rolled her shoulders. “Never mind what’s in and what’s out. Where is this guy? I want a piece of him.” She pursed her lips. “Uh, it was a guy?”

“If slime has a gender, yes. And no, you can’t.” He groaned. “Dex will want to pound on him too, I bet.”

“Is that the boyfriend with no hair and muscles on his muscles? There wouldn’t be anything left when he’d finished. I want to go first.”

“Why did I never know about your berserker ancestors?”

She grinned and flexed her arm. “I’m from New York. We don’t play nice with others, not when they leave our friends bruised. Tell me you got him back?”

“No, and I’m happy with that since he left and I got to finish my shopping.”

“Maybe Dex could show you some self-defense moves?”

“Maybe people can let me take care of myself and handle the situation solo!” He sank his head into his hands. “Okay, scrub that. I’m an ungrateful asshole.”

“I get it.” All belligerence gone, she stroked his hair. “It sucks to feel helpless and being on the receiving end of violence has that effect. And, yeah, I’m speaking from experience, and no, I don’t want to share. Get me drunk some night and I’ll spill, but it was a long time ago and I’m over it.” She paused, then brightened. “Let me go get something from my place! A little bit of foundation and powder, maybe we can keep this under wraps until it has a chance to heal.”

It seemed unlikely, but again, he knew better than to try to talk her out of something she’d set her mind on. “I’ve got to start cooking if I’m going to have dinner on the table by the time he gets here.” Half an hour was nothing to sneeze at, but he wasn’t a wiz in the kitchen and it had been long enough since he’d cooked fish that he needed to remind himself of the timing.

He worked on a fresh fruit salsa that was supposed to go on top of the grilled salmon, dicing strawberries, the oranges, and a mango ripe enough that his fingers were dripping with juices while Jackie dabbed at his cheek and around his eye with a tiny sponge and a brush.

“I don’t think this qualifies as safe food preparation procedures,” Peter commented, but Jackie rolled her eyes.

“It’s for your boyfriend. He puts his tongue in your mouth—not to mention other places, I’m sure. Do you think he’d freak out about a tiny bit of face powder in the dinner you’re going to cook?”

“The salsa doesn’t get cooked.” He saw her point though.

“Hold still, stop talking, and let me work my magic.”

When she’d finished, she tilted his face to the light, her expression telling him what he already knew; the bruise was covered, but still visible.

“Maybe you could make it a candle-lit dinner?” she offered. “Romantic and hides a multitude of sins.”

“I was already planning on candles, but this isn’t a sin. I didn’t do anything wrong!” He drew in a shaky breath. “And that’s the second time I’ve snapped at you. Sorry. I’m more on edge than I realized.”

“Would a hug help?”

That she asked first and in a subdued voice, instead of wrapping her arms around him, was a sign of her upset. Peter made amends by hugging her for longer than usual, and kissing her cheek before pulling back. “It did. Thank you. You’re a better friend and neighbor than I deserve.”

“It goes both ways.” She glanced at the clock on the microwave and squeaked. “Look at the time! I’ll be late for my spin class and Lesley swore if I walked in after the class started again, she’d make me do two sessions back to back. Which would kill me dead.”

“Go! Spin!” Smiling now, he went with her to the front door, only to see Dex’s Jeep pull up. Shit. If Jackie was late, Dex was early. Too early. Nothing was ready, from the meal, to the house, to Peter himself.

Abandoning his food prep, he ducked into the half bath in the hallway to check his face in the mirror, wiping his hands on his pants. Dex didn’t know him the way Jackie did; maybe he wouldn’t notice anything was wrong. He heard Dex and Jackie exchanging a few words on the front porch and then the screen door opening again as Dex called out, “Hey! Scout, no. Are you trying to kill me?”

“She might be,” Peter said, with one last glance at his reflection before he said hi. “How’s the gym?” He kissed Dex quickly—Dex couldn’t look at his face if they were kissing—then whirled away toward the kitchen. “I’m running a little behind schedule. Okay, a lot. I planned to have everything ready by the time you got here, but the grocery store took way longer than I expected, and—”

“It’s dinner.” Dex tried to soothe him. “I don’t mind helping. What can I do? Other than having to keep shoving Scout out of the way with my foot, apparently.”

“No, no, sit down. No, get yourself a beer if you want. This won’t take too long.”

Dex crouched to scratch Scout’s chest and the beagle’s hind leg beat a rapid pattern on the floor. “It’ll take even less time if you give me something to do. Are we grilling?” It wasn’t an unreasonable question even if Peter hadn’t planned that far ahead.

“Um. Yeah, I guess. I was going to roast the broccoli under the broiler.” Which meant the salmon would have to go on the grill. He hadn’t checked to see if the propane tank was full because he hardly ever cooked out on the back deck.

“I can start it heating if that would…” Dex’s voice trailed off before he asked, “What happened to your face?”

Scout, picking up on the atmosphere, whined before wandering off, abandoning Peter to deal with Dex, who’d closed the distance between them in the space of a breath, a frown gathering like storm clouds in a clear summer sky.

As guilty as if he was a kid caught fighting, he said quickly, “It’s nothing. I—”

Dex cradled Peter’s face with one hand, tilting it to get a better view. “What the hell did you plaster over it? Did you seriously think that would work?”

“No, but it was easier than—Listen, I meant to tell—”

“Don’t.” Dex used both hands now, his touch light as if he held thin glass. “Please. Don’t cover shit up. Trust me with the truth.” His kiss was a brush of his lips, no more than that, but Peter shivered, his body heating, his face tingling. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready, but if you went the foundation and powder route, I’m guessing you didn’t run into a door or have an accident with a dog at work.”

“The makeup was Jackie’s idea. I only let her do it because she wanted to.” Peter sighed. “I did run into something, but it wasn’t a door. Now stay calm—”

“Don't give me that bullshit, Peter. There's nothing that makes me feel less calm than being told to stay calm. You ran into someone's fist, is that it?”

“Not quite that literal. I ran into Stefan at the grocery store. His fist came later.”

Dex’s eyes were as angry as Stefan’s had been. Weird how it didn't make Peter feel the slightest bit threatened. “He hit you.”

“Yeah. I didn't hit him back. I mean, I might have, but… Luis kind of came to my rescue.”

“Luis happened to be at the grocery store when this all went down.” Dex’s voice had gone flat.

“Either that or he’s stalking me.” Peter held up his hand quickly. “God, I'm joking! Joking! Sorry.” He should have known better than to risk playing around with something that was a sore spot. “Stefan was being an supercilious ass and when I pressed the issue he snapped. He surprised me. Luis smoothed things over and we got the hell out of there. That's the end of the story.”

He could tell Dex was holding back from asking for more details. “Did you ice this at least?”

“Yeah, when I got home.”

“It needs more. And you could take a painkiller with an anti-inflammatory if you’ve got one.” Dex chewed his lip. “If I come on too strong with the protective nurse routine, tell me to back off, and I will, I swear it, but every instinct I have is telling me to take care of this. All of it. And I know you don’t want me to, and you can handle it, but God, do I want to smash his face in and kiss yours better.”

The frustration in his made Peter want to be the one offering comfort. “Thanks for not leaping on a white horse and avenging my honor. The kiss sounds good though.”

“Yeah?” Dex put his hands behind his back and leaned in, giving the bruised area a kiss that unlike the light one to Peter’s lips had some weight behind it. The throb pulsing through Peter didn’t originate from his cheek, though. “Did Luis do that?”

The hint of a growl had Peter smiling, a sizzle of heat warming him. Dex’s possessive side never made him feel owned or trapped. Instead, it revealed a vulnerable side to Dex, one Peter suspected not many people saw. “No, and I wouldn’t have wanted him to.”

“Good.” Dex kissed his mouth again, carefully, then smiled. “Now give me a job to do while you go take care of your face so we can eat before we starve to death.”

Between them, they got the broccoli roasted, the salmon grilled and topped with the fruit salsa, and all of it onto two plates. “I should have remembered some kind of starch,” Peter said. “Potato, rice, something.”

“This is great.” Dex had lit the candles and opened a bottle of wine as instructed, and Peter had banished the dogs behind one of the baby gates he kept around for emergencies. “We don’t need a starch. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I saw some kind of dessert lurking in the fridge.”

“Sugar, not starch.”

“Close enough.”

Peter put a big bite of fish and salsa into his mouth and chewed blissfully. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that moment; getting the dining room into a state where he wasn’t embarrassed to serve a meal there had taken up most of the half hour in which he should have been eating lunch, and he’d had to settle for a handful of crackers and a glass of lemonade. “You did a great job with the salmon.”

“It’s perfect, but that was pure luck,” Dex agreed. “We don’t grill a lot of fish. Uh, I mean, I don’t.”

Time for a gentle nudge? Mindful of his debt, Peter said casually, “I see Shannon and Luis as more burgers and steak than fish fans. Must have made cooking easy if you all liked the same food. How did you divide the cooking and chores?”

“We had a system—” Dex hunched his shoulders irritably, muttering. “What does it matter now? Shannon’s moved on and Luis and Elliot probably do everything joined at the hip. Or elsewhere.”

Forget the nudges. “Luis put himself in the way of Stefan’s fist. Saved me from getting in trouble. And he mentioned you and I saw how much it upsets him that you’re angry with him, Dex. He’s hurting. Yes, he hurt you first, but if you keep him out of your life much longer, it’ll be too late. There won’t be a space for him to step back into.”

“Good.”

“If I thought you meant that, I’d keep talking, but I know you don’t so I’ll shut up now. I’ve said my piece.”

Dex took a few more bites, chewing his broccoli like he blamed it for all the evil in the world, then sighed and put down his fork. “Okay, fine. You want me to say I hate this? I do. I wish none of it had happened, but am I supposed to shrug and pretend none of it did? I don’t know how to do that, not without it eating me up inside.”

“He doesn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“He’s not. He’d deny it, but he’ll go out of his way to pick up a caterpillar off the driveway rather than risk one of us crushing it with a tire, and despite all his complaints about dog hair he’ll leave Tank asleep on his hoodie because he’s so cute when he’s snoring. That kind of thing.”

“A big softie,” Peter agreed.

“Probably sitting around half the time upset about how stuff went down.” Dex sighed again. “This sucks.”

“For all of you. It’s a shame.”

“‘It’s a shame?’ That’s all you’ve got for me?” Smiling, Dex picked up his fork again. “No amount of depression’s enough to keep me from a good meal. So what now? Do I call him? It’ll be awkward as hell.”

It couldn’t possibly be this easy.

“Invite them over to join us for dessert.”

“What? Now?”

Peter nodded, sure of himself. “When you introduce two dogs who’re inclined to fight, you do it on neutral territory. This is my place, not yours or theirs. No one feels at a disadvantage and it’s private so you can let it all out if you need to.”

With a scoffing sound accompanied by an epic eye roll, Dex asked, “You expect us to yell? Cry? Newsflash; you won’t need a box of tissues handy.”

Refusing to give way, Peter said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Only that something has to and today’s as good a time as any. And if you want to frame it as getting Luis’s side of the supermarket story because I was too stunned to take in the details, I’ll go along with that.”

He wasn’t prepared for Dex’s reaction. The blink, the parted lips, the headshake.

“What?” Peter asked.

“You hate being seen as in need of protection, but to get me and Luis together you’d pose as helpless?” Dex stood and came around the table, dropping to his knees in a way that plucked a string deep inside Peter, sending out rich note. “I love you. I’m gonna say it every time you do something like this so you know I appreciate it. Okay, I’ll call.”

Hearing it said out loud like that when they weren’t naked and fresh from coming affected Peter more than he would have anticipated. Wordless, he could only nod as Dex smiled up at him.

“You okay?”

He nodded again.

Dex knelt up, kissed him, then got out his phone as he stood. “Finish your dinner and I’ll take care of the dishes when I’m done with this.” He wandered out through the kitchen and the door to the back yard where the grill was, presumably wanting a few minutes of privacy, which Peter was more than willing to give him.

Slowly, Peter ate his last few bites of dinner and, ignoring Dex’s orders to leave the dishes, started to clean up. Scout, who’d been dozing on the other side of the baby gate in the doorway between the dining room and the living room, woke up and whined anxiously to be included. She was a nice distraction from the temptation to listen in on Dex’s conversation so Peter let her into the kitchen with him and piled their dirty things in the sink neatly before going back to the dining room to wipe down the table. He could re-set it for dessert as soon as he knew Elliot and Luis would be joining them. Doing it before that seemed like bad karma.

The door opened and Dex came in, pushing Scout out of his way with a gentle swipe of his leg. “She’s determined to trip me,” he said, setting the barbecue utensils in the sink. “I told you to leave that.”

“I needed something to do.” Peter took the fancy little bakery cake he’d bought out of the fridge so it would be easier to slice. “Well?”

“Yeah. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“Oh God.” Peter glanced around, panic seizing him. “The place is a mess.”

“It was good enough for me though?” Dex teased him. “Forget it. I can promise you the last thing they’ll do is look for dust bunnies.”

“How did Luis sound?”

“Relieved.” Dex rubbed the back of his neck as if uncomfortable with the memory. “Not falling over himself to say thanks for reaching out, but I didn’t expect it. He’s not gonna grovel or apologize every other sentence either. He figures he’s said it once. But relieved. Yeah.”

“That’s good.” It felt as if his reply should have been a question.

In silence now, tense, anticipating a knock on the door, they set to work. Dex tidied around and Peter put on a pot of coffee.

“We’ll eat in the main room,” Peter decided, his words jerky. “Less formal. And if it doesn’t work out, that’s it. No more nagging from me.”

“You haven’t nagged yet, so I don’t see you starting.” Dex swooped him into a hug, breaking the constraint between them. “Relax. If it comes to a fight, you take Elliot down and leave Luis to me. I know his weak spots. Tickle his ribs and he pees his pants laughing.”

“More than I wanted to know.”

“I mean it. Don’t be worried about how this is going to go. I’ve pretty much made my mind up to forgive him, somehow, whatever that takes. Unless he’s a total asshole.”

“Which he’s not, or you wouldn’t have been friends with him for so long.” Hearing Dex sound at peace about the situation _did_ make Peter relax, and in the interest of relaxing more he pushed Dex down onto the big padded chair and sat on his lap.

Dex laughed. “Hey! That crack about the tickle fight was hypothetical!”

“You should have been more specific.” Peter squirmed into a better position and dug the fingertips of his good hand into Dex’s ribs, hoping he’d get lucky. “Are you gonna pee your pants?”

“No! Get off me!” Dex bucked underneath him in a way that would have majorly turned Peter on if the circumstances were different. “Why do you want me to pee my pants? That’s fucked up. You’ve been lying to me—you’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you?”

Now Peter was laughing, too. “I’m not! You were the one who brought up urine!”

“You’re the one who deals with things like dog and cat urine and feces for a living!” Dex was tickling him back now.

“Way to spoil my appetite for cake!”

They were making so much noise that the knock at the door blended in with it, only registering belatedly for Peter when it was repeated. He shot off Dex’s lap and stumbled backward. “Shit!”

“Is that carrying on the conversation or did one of the animals misbehave?” Dex, outwardly cool, damn him, rose and gestured at the door. “Your house.”

“No. It doesn’t matter. You open it.”

God, if he didn’t get himself under control, this visit wouldn’t be awkward but catastrophic.

Hurrying after Dex, he arrived in time to be at his side when the door swung wide revealing Luis and Elliot, both dressed in a way that indicated they'd been on their way out when Dex called. Too formal for a night at home, but perfect for a meal somewhere classy.

Oh well. This wouldn’t take long.

The ritual of greeting guests, ushering them in, and getting them seated took care of the first tense moments and Scout wandering in to sniff at the newcomers helped too. Eventually, though, the silence settled on them like a scratchy blanket, stifling the conversation.

Peter glanced covertly at Elliot. He’d fucked him. Gotten naked with him and touched him, seen him come. And now Elliot sat, a careful distance from Luis, head down, hands clasped tightly, tension radiating from him, a stranger.

Luis met his gaze. “How’s the face?”

Grateful for words, any words, Peter brushed the bruise with his fingertips, testing his reaction. “Sore. I’ll be fielding questions for a few days, I guess.”

“Did you put makeup on it?” Luis asked, incredulous.

“Um. Yeah. Well, not me, my neighbor. She likes a challenge.” He smiled at Luis, then included Elliot when he looked up. Elliot bit his lip and looked away again.

“You don’t have to act like you’re here for a sentencing,” Dex said sharply. “Jesus. I’m not gonna start throwing punches or shouting at you or… whatever it is you’re expecting. Why did you even agree to come if it was gonna make you so uncomfortable?”

Elliot lifted his gaze briefly. “Because Luis wanted to.”

The simplicity of the response seemed to take the wind out of Dex’s sails. “Huh.”

“Not that I don’t care about working things out with you.” Studying his hands, Elliot leaned forward. “We were friends first.”

“No.” Luis shook his head. “You weren’t friends first. Friends came later. First you were casual sex partners, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You were both on board with it, but because that part’s over that doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends.”

“We all can be.” Peter was hesitant to include himself in the conversation, aware that he was the outsider in the equation on some level. “You two are together, you’re happy about it. Dex and me, too. I mean, let’s be totally honest here: if Luis and I suddenly broke up with both of you and moved a thousand miles away, would you two get back together?”

Dex and Elliot looked at each other. “No,” they said at the same time.

“Well then. And if it’s strong, the thing between you, I can see how you’d act on it without meaning to hurt Dex. Don’t get me wrong, you had a choice and maybe it wasn’t the best one, but were you planning to tell Dex eventually?”

“We were planning to tell him the next time we saw him.” Luis shook his head, lips curving ruefully. “Didn’t think the next time would be when I was half naked and in the middle of sex.”

“And don’t think the trauma of that’s going away anytime soon,” Dex said with a theatrical shudder. “I always knew your ass was hairy, but—”

“It is not!” Luis stabbed his finger at Dex. “And if it was, which it isn’t, at least I’ve got hair where it should be, Baldilocks.”

Dex rose, ominous and tall. “What did I say would happen if you called me that again?”

“I don’t remember. Probably wasn’t listening.”

“How about I clean your ears out for you?”

It wasn’t the easy banter Peter supposed the two of them were used to, but it was a start. Ignoring Dex’s determined efforts to get Luis in a headlock, he smiled at Elliot. “Cake? Coffee? Or something stronger?”

“Make it a double.”

Chapter Thirteen

Peter’s phone rang on the countertop as his shift was ending; he still had half a dozen things to wrap up, but that was normal. He glanced at it and saw it was Dex calling. His hands were filthy and he hated to touch the cell with them like that, so he let it go to voicemail and went to the sink for a good scrub, making sure he got the brush under his short nails, too.

When he was done, he called Dex back without bothering to listen to the message he’d left. “Hi. Sorry I couldn’t pick up, I was in the middle of a thing. What’s up?”

“Any chance you could do me a favor? I hate to ask, but—”

“Yeah, whatever you need. I'm finishing up here anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

Peter managed not to roll his eyes. “Yes, I'm sure. I mean, unless we’re talking about something that’s literally impossible.”

“Could you swing by Shannon’s on your way home and pick up Tank for me? He and Elliot are going to some late night party and I said I’d take him, but one of the trainers called in sick at the last minute and I don't see how I'm going to get out of here on time.”

That was easy. “Sure, no problem. We were going to have to introduce him to the smaller dogs at some point. Might as well be tonight. Do you want to come over when you’re done at the gym?”

“Yeah. Not sure when that’ll be, though. I'm sorry. As soon as Jeff gets back, things will settle down again.”

Peter didn't mind things being unsettled. He’d worked strange shifts for so long and in a profession where emergencies were part of the job that he was good at rolling with whatever life threw at him. “Well, text me when you’re on the way.”

He ended the conversation, turned, and found himself face to face with Stefan.

“Why do you always creep up on people?” he asked, not troubling to hide his irritation.

“Worried your boyfriend will smell my cologne on you and ask awkward questions?”

“After a shift here, all I smell of is antiseptic and dogs and since he trusts me not to screw around with anyone, human or animal, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Stefan raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure of that?”

Visions of Stefan planting evidence of an affair on him in some way and sending Dex an anonymous tip floated through his mind, the details getting more lurid with every twist, until they all lay dead on the floor. Yeah, it wouldn't happen, but in case Stefan had any ideas of a more realistic version of that, he said, “Certain. And if Dex thought I was cheating and broke up with me, I’d throw myself into work because there’d be nothing else for me to do with my blighted life.”

“Of course you would. So the rumors about you being unable to function without sex on a daily basis are just that?”

Peter laughed at him. “God, no. Totally true. I’m addicted. Sex, sex, and more sex.”

“Seriously?”

“No, you idiot. I enjoy it as much as anyone, but addicted? Are you for real?” Shaking his head in disgust, he pushed past Stefan, taking care not to touch him and give Stefan an excuse to claim he’d been shoved.

Stefan grabbed his arm, his grip uncomfortably tight. “Wait. I want to make things right between us.”

Shaking free, Peter rounded on him. “Why? I won’t change my mind.”

“It’s not about that.” Stefan held up his hands, as it show he wouldn't grab Peter again, and Peter relaxed. When it came down to it, he was someone who believed that most people were inherently good, and giving third or fourth chances was in his nature.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “What’s it about, then?”

“I’ve worked my whole life for this.” Stefan lowered his hands, sighing. He looked defeated. If it was an act, it was a good one. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, and when I got the job here, it seemed I’d finally found my place. You know? Does that make sense?”

“You’re smart. You could do anything.” Peter chose his words carefully, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “It doesn’t have to be this.”

“That’s what I haven’t been able to get you to understand. It does. Not here, if you don’t want me, but I'd hate to start over somewhere else. I know you think I’m some kind of hack, or… I don’t know, the version of a sociopath when it comes to animals or something, but there are clients who like me. Who ask for me specifically when they call.”

That was true. “I don’t think you’re a hack. Or a sociopath.” Stefan was probably better suited to a different profession, but this wasn’t the time to say that, not when Stefan was being vulnerable. “And you’re right, there are clients who like you.”

“So what can I do? There’s got to be something. Not to change your mind, if you know you aren’t going to, but to shift things so maybe I could have been the kind of person you’d want to keep building this practice with? Because I’ve already spent some time in the internet and I haven’t had any luck finding classes in how to be a more compassionate vet.”

That made Peter smile, drawing a similar response from Stefan, the first genuine smile they’d exchanged. “You’re kidding. I thought you could find everything on there.”

“Seemingly not.” Stefan stared at the floor, fingering a loose button on his white coat. “I suppose you’ll say it needs to come from within and I need to cleanse my aura or something.”

“You’ve mixed me up with a different Peter. I have trouble keeping my place and car tidy; my aura’s at the bottom of the must clean list. Way at the bottom.”

“Okay. So we’re good?” Stefan looked at him then, his gaze as appealing as a spaniel’s. “We can try to figure out a way for this to work?”

“Uh, sure.”

“I want to make it up to you. Hitting you like that—It wasn’t me. I’ve never hit anyone in my whole life.”

Somehow that rang true, but Peter noticed with a stab of cynicism that Stefan hadn’t mentioned the damage to their cars. Apparently Stefan’s contrition had its limits. “You don’t need to make it up to me. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“It won’t.” Stefan started to turn away, then hesitated. “Um… does Fer know?”

“I sort of sidestepped the issue, so if she does, it’s not because I told her.” Part of him knew he should have, but the rest of him was a strange mixture of embarrassed and ashamed that he’d let another man hit him without retaliating. “I won’t lie to her, though.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. Anyway, I know you have something to get to or whatever. How’d the Harris’s dachshund do after her surgery?”

God, it was so much easier to talk about work. “Pretty well, considering. Her stitches and drain look great; I’ll bet she won’t even have a scar, not that they’d mind if she did.”

“She’s a sweet girl. Shame about the pyometra—I know they were hoping to get another litter or two out of her before she was spayed. She makes cute puppies and it’s hard not to respect people who are so committed to documented pedigrees.”

Peter preferred mutts but at least the Harrises were caring dog owners and had brought Dixie in immediately when they’d suspected she wasn’t well. And it was nice to get confirmation that Stefan did care about some of their patients. “All right, well, have a good night.”

“Maybe we could go out for a drink sometime. You, me, your partner and my girlfriend.”

Worst idea ever. Dex’s reaction would be priceless, though. Peter half wanted to agree to see Stefan squirm under Dex’s relentless stare. “You have a—I mean, you never mentioned her?”

“I haven’t been with Dyan long. That’s Dyan without an ‘e’, by the way and with a ‘y’ but said as if it’s D-I-A-N-E. She’s insistent about that.”

Exercising his diplomatic side, Peter said, “It’s annoying when people spell or pronounce a name incorrectly.” And when parents made life difficult for everyone with unusual names that sound like the usual pronunciation. Why bother?

“She’s fond of animals.”

“Good.”

“It’s how we met. At Crufts in Birmingham, England.” Stefan didn’t get misty-eyed, but Peter fancied he saw a slight softening of the jaw. “I was over on vacation and my host offered to take me. I saw a magnificent Giant Schnauzer. That breed won Best in Show in 2008, you know.”

“I didn’t. So she’s English? British?”

“No, no, she’s from this area, but she’s a breeder and she’d always wanted to go to Crufts. I heard her accent, introduced myself, and well, imagine the surprise when we discovered we were both from Franklin County!”

Not all that interested, Peter edged toward the door. “She sounds great and that’s quite the meet cute. I’ll get back to you on the drinks. Dex is working two jobs so he’s kind of swamped.”

Tiny fudging of the truth, since Dex was only at the gym, but it wouldn’t keep him awake at night.

“He must be a machine,” Stefan said, sounding impressed. “If I didn’t have my days off to catch up on sleep, I’d be a zombie.”

Peter shrugged off his pleasure at the compliment to Dex. “He’s always spent a lot of time at [gym omg nothing has names I can remember ha ha]. Filling in there while the owner’s out of town, well, it might be hard work, but he’s enjoying it, too.”

Hannah, one of their more experienced vet techs, stuck her head into the room and seemed surprised to find them together. “Oh, um, Dr. Mikaelson, there’s a woman coming in with a kitten she thinks ate some rubber bands. She’ll be here in a couple of minutes. I'll put her in room three, if that’s okay?”

Stefan nodded and asked a question; Peter took advantage of the moment to slip from the room and the building before he could get cornered again. He was so distracted by the conversation with Stefan that he almost forgot to stop by Shannon and Rory’s place to pick up Tank. The two of them were on their way out and didn’t do much more than thank him and push Tank’s leash into his hand. There were times it paid to be trusted with animals. He loaded Tank into the front seat of his car, flinching when the dog’s wagging tail slapped him in the face.

Tank turned his head and gave Peter’s ear a lick with a tongue so wide it ended up catching in his hair.

“Ugh,” Peter said, wiping off saliva. “I revise my previous assessment of you. You are not a good dog. You are a very, very bad dog.”

Tank panted and grinned, not believing a word of it.

He’d seen Tank interact with smaller animals at the hospital, both dogs and cats, and never had reason to be concerned, but he still approached introducing Tank to Scout and Chico with caution. Scout, who’d always been all bark and no bite, put up a good show for the first thirty seconds, then turned tail and fled the instant Tank got close enough to sniff her. Chico sauntered into the room, blinked sleepily at the sight of a dog more than ten times his size, and lifted his lip in a barely audible snarl.

Eyes widening in alarm, Tank looked to Peter for reassurance. “It’s okay,” Peter told him. “You could flatten him with one paw.”

Chico seemed unaware of that fact. After a long, threatening growl, he advanced on Tank, who drew back with a whine, then sank to the floor, offering his belly in submission. Satisfied, Chico sniffed Tank’s hind end then stalked off, the clear victor.

Tank immediately rose, tongue lolling. “And the Oscar goes to…” Peter murmured, scratching Tank’s ear. “You weren’t all that scared, were you, buddy?”

If dogs could laugh, Tank did then, though Peter suspected his initial apprehension had been real. Chico was no pushover, this wasn’t Tank’s home, and it was all in the attitude.

He got Tank settled, chatting to him, a habit he’d gotten into with his pets. Tank dozed off after a while and Peter shut up. He was bored and a little lonely. Before Dex, he wouldn’t have been, but now he knew what the alternative was. Dex, big, smiling, loving, left a huge gap.

Six months ago, if he’d experienced a mood like this, he’d have hooked up with someone. He wasn’t the ideal physique to attract men into perfect bodies, but there were plenty of guys out there who were average like him, and interested more in getting off than being with, well, someone like Dex.

God, what did Dex see in him? Peter didn’t get it. Maybe he should stop trying and accept the good fortune life had gifted him.

Sitting on the couch turned into lying on it, hand working his cock, head filled with hazy, shifting fantasies. Dex bent over one of the fiendish machines at the gym, naked against the black leather seat and the metal bars. He’d hold on, ass up, begging for Peter to do something, anything, and Peter would start by...what? Light touches, until Dex trembled, or a rimming that reduced him to a puddle of need? He rolled his balls, increasing the speed of his other hand. Mmm. Nice. Not as hot as the real deal, but he wasn’t bored now.

Scout whined and he tried to ignore it. Dex would be aware that they were near a wall of windows, and even though it was the middle of the night, if anyone passed by, they’d be able to glance in and… no, that wasn’t Peter’s kink, apparently. Interesting, and he could see why someone might find it appealing, but not for him.

What if Dex was on that machine that worked the thighs? Adjust it to spread his legs wide and Dex had to fight to bring them together, the weights resisting. He could sit Dex down and add weights until they were too heavy for Dex to lift no matter how hard he struggled, sweat beading on his skin, inner thighs trembling with the effort. He might even tie Dex’s wrists to the hand holds. Nude, every inch of him available for Peter to explore and enjoy. And eventually fuck, of course.

Even that fleeting thought made him groan. Fucking Dex was like nothing he’d ever experienced, like being with no one he’d ever been with. Imagining being able to do it with Dex restrained, turned on enough that he was begging for it… God, that was so hot, and damn it what the hell was Scout’s problem?

He glanced over at her, hand still working his cock, in time to see her squat near the door. “No!” he shouted, and leapt up, shoving his erection painfully into his pants as he shuffled to let her out. Stupid dog.

Not fair. She’d been asking clearly for what she needed, and the look she gave him as she slipped outside into the yard was worried. Sometimes he could be a real asshole.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “Good girl. You go on.”

He leaned against the doorframe, waiting for his erection to subside, nerves jangling. He needed to finish what he’d started, but not solo. He needed Dex.

Who was working, but Peter had taken out a gym membership and had every right to be there. And if Dex took a break, well, his apartment was conveniently close and so was the bed in it. Would Dex go for a quickie? Only one way to find out.

He saw to all the animals, making sure they had a chance to follow Scout’s example and pee, then feeding them and putting Tank in the spare room with a blanket and a chew toy. They’d be fine for a few hours, not that he expected to be away that long.

On the drive over, he kept his arousal simmering by adding onto his fantasy until his cock ached, rigid, hungry. It took five minutes in the parking lot thinking about the latest article on deworming to calm down.

The guy on the reception desk greeted him by name and with a smile, which was new. Dex had told him privately that without doing anything major, he’d instituted a few changes. If this was one of them, Peter approved.

He put his gym bag into a locker and keyed in the four-number code he used. It was the date he’d met Dex, which was sentimental, but easy to remember and hard to guess.

The place was humming, busy and with an energy to it that’d been lacking before. Music, upbeat and brash, encouraged activity without being deafeningly loud, and the air smelled fresh, not stale and sweaty.

The towels hadn’t changed, but Peter supposed that level of interference crossed a line in Dex’s eyes. Pity.

“So what’s a guy with a perfect ass doing in a place like this?” Dex said in his ear, startling Peter, who’d been studying the machines with a view to using them in highly inappropriate ways.

“Pretty sure that’s my line.” He’d have loved to grab hold of Dex’s ass in that moment, two handfuls of it. Not the best way to reinforce Dex’s new position at the gym.

Positions.

_God_.

“Tank behaving himself?”

“You know he is. He’s curled up in the spare room, probably dreaming of playing with Bailey. Neither of my two would make good companions for him.”

“He’s been so much happier without the cone of shame, though.”

“Can’t blame him.” Standing so close to Dex, whose eyes crinkled up in the corners whenever he was looking Peter’s way, he might have agreed that the world was flat. “Is this the part where I admit I’m not here to work out?”

“No? Why _are_ you here, then?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”

Dex smiled. “That works out for me. I wanted to see you, too. Better be careful, though, or my reputation as a tough guy’s gonna be blown.”

When Peter was this turned on, everything sounded like an innuendo. “Do you have a break coming up? Or is it hard to get away when it’s busy?” And now he was doing it.

“Just came off a break, sorry. And, yeah, I like to keep an eye on the place in person. Jeff didn’t. He spent most of the time holed up in his office watching TV, but I’m more of a hands-on guy.”

“Yeah, and I wish they were on me.” He must’ve said it a little too loudly or with too much vehemence, because Dex stepped in front of him, shielding him from the room.

“Hey, slow down, tiger.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you at work. Or make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re a member of the gym and you could never do that, but I do need—” A staff member called Dex’s name and Dex turned. “Yeah? What is it, Mark?”

“Paul needs a spotter and I’m with a new client. Are you busy?”

“No, I’m free.” With an apologetic grimace, and a friendly pat on the shoulder, Dex headed over to a bench where a man lay under a bar weighed down with so many iron plates, Peter expected it to buckle.

Left alone, he drew in a breath. Okay, time to settle down and act like an adult not a horny teen. He was embarrassing himself, though at least he hadn’t flat-out asked Dex for sex. Something told him Dex had guessed what was on his mind, though. So soon after his confession, would it cement the idea he was addicted to sex? He wasn’t. A high sex drive, yes, but it wasn’t an overwhelming, constant need.

Except where Dex was concerned, it felt that way.

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but he was here at the gym wearing clothes he could work out in, so maybe it was time to redirect his energy. Stop thinking about his dick and start thinking about the rest of his body.

Forty minutes on the treadmill was the most he could manage; when he finally had to shut it down, his hair was soaked with sweat, the longer tendrils sticking to the back of his neck, tickling him. Why had he thought this was a good idea? His legs ached, his lungs were burning, and his heart thundered in his chest. Whatever runner’s high he was supposed to be experiencing, it seemed to have skipped him over, like Santa Claus refusing to visit the home of a child who’d been naughty one time too many.

“Working hard,” the man next to him commented as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

“I’m new,” Peter said. “But I guess you could tell.”

The man looked at least ten years younger than him, maybe still college aged. “Nope.” He sounded cheerful, breathing coming easily despite the speed at which he was running. “You look good to me.”

Flirting was familiar, reassuring, but Peter wasn’t interested in taking it further. “Thanks. You, too.” He went to the water fountain for a drink, feeling the strain in his lower back as he bent to drink.

“I mean it.” He turned to see his companion from the treadmill. “Hi. I’m Noah.”

“Peter, but I’m not—”

“Gay? Interested?” Noah smiled. “I’d argue with the first. I saw you drooling over Dex. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Huge improvement on the owner, though Jeff’s nice enough. Dex has gotten the place moving, though. Shame it’s temporary.”

“Yeah, he’s enjoying himself, I’d say.” Peter sipped his water. “And as for the drooling, well, I’m entitled. He’s my boyfriend.”

Noah clapped his hand over his mouth, but from the twinkle in his blue eyes, his horror was totally put-on. “Oops? Don’t tell him I was flirting. He’ll add twenty minutes to my workout and I’ve got a paper to write.”

Happy to chat if it postponed the next stage on his self-imposed torture and Noah knew that was all it was, Peter asked the obvious question and found Noah was studying geology.

“I want a job on an oil rig. One month on, one month off, and the pay’s great.”

“What about the ecological issues?”

“They’re a concern, sure, but—”

“If you stand around, you’ll cool off and that can lead to cramps.”

Dex. Not angry or jealous, smiling even, but with a firm set to his lips that made Peter want to nibble them soft and yielding.

“Is that advice for me or for him?” Peter asked.

“Both of you,” Dex said. “Noah, I’d hate to find out you were hitting on my boyfriend.”

“No way!” Noah took a step back, grinning, clearly understanding that Dex was joking. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was totally headed there until he told me you two are together, but I’m not into breaking up relationships.”

“Good, because you can’t have him.”

Peter would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t find Dex’s show of possession, mild as it was, flattering.

“Weren’t you saying that new guy Rafael’s hot? He went into the weight room—he might appreciate someone who knows what they’re doing keeping an eye on him.” Dex lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh, hey, thanks. Yeah, I’d hate for him to get hurt or something. Nice to meet you, Peter.” Nodding at him, Noah headed off toward the weight room.

“Marking territory or being a good trainer?” Peter asked, making sure Dex saw his grin.

“I don’t want to tattoo ‘taken’ on your ass, don’t worry. And I won’t insult you by not trusting you.”

“Some people would say after what happened, you’d be entitled to react badly to seeing someone flirt with me.”

“Then they’re idiots.” Dex drew a glass of water and downed it in a gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He smelled...he smelled strong, Peter decided. Indefinable, but that was the impression he got from each hit of Dex’s scent. Powerfully arousing. “What Elliot did hurt my ego some, and what Luis did hurt my feelings, but neither of them have the power to turn me into one of those assholes who go off every time their partner looks at another guy. You’re human. You’ll look. And you’re hot, so you’ll get looked at.” He stroked Peter’s temple with a finger, holding it up, damp with sweat. “Literally hot too. Don’t overdo it.”

Overdoing it would require more dedication than Peter had. His whole body was humming, though, in a way that was new and interesting. “What’s runner’s high feel like?” he asked.

Dex studied him. “Adrenaline, I guess. The good kind.”

“There’s a good kind?” All of the adrenaline Peter could remember having experienced had been related to stressful situations. Losing control of the car during a snowstorm, trying to save the life of an animal with critical injuries.

“Sex.” Dex leaned in before he spoke in a low voice so he wouldn't be overheard.

“I never notice that adrenaline until it’s over,” Peter admitted. “And by then it’s the opposite of adrenaline.”

“I guess it’s like an orgasm. Hard to describe, but you'll know it when you feel it?”

“It’s been so long, I’ll take your word on that.”

“Huh?” Dex scratched his nose. “Amnesia isn’t a side effect of sweating too much or I wouldn’t know my name, address, or date of birth. Didn’t we—”

“Yes. Yes, we did. But today I’ve got an itch I can’t fucking scratch and when I tried solo, the dogs—” Peter heaved a sigh, cutting off the spill of words. “Sorry. I’m in a weird mood. Stefan was nice to me, asking us on a double date or something, and it’s thrown me for a loop.”

Dex arched his eyebrows, clearly fighting to keep a smile from appearing. “And you think a bone-melting orgasm will settle you down?”

“Yes.”

“Gonna have to wait until my shift ends to find out if you’re right,” Dex told him. “Two hours and eight minutes to go. You can head back to your place and I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

Remorse struck. He was being selfish, dragging Dex out after a long day at work. “You’ll want to shower, eat, maybe watch a movie.”

“Nope.” Dex leaned in, filling Peter’s vision. “I’ll want to get naked with you and let you get me dirty, so the shower’s pointless. The only thing I’ll be eating is your cum, and there isn’t a movie filmed that beats watching you when you’re getting off. Two hours and seven and I’m out of here. Now get lost before you get me any harder than I already am.”

“_I love you so much right now_,” Peter said, intense, and forced himself to turn and walk away before Dex could respond.

He took a quick shower under water as cold as he could bear, his skin prickled with goose bumps, teeth chattering, then got dressed and drove home.

One hour and thirty three minutes.

Let all three of the dogs out, even Chico, who’d been sleeping and was confused at being woken from dreams of chasing chipmunks if the twitching of his legs was any indication.

One hour and twenty two minutes.

Tried to make sense of his still-damp hair, combing it with his fingers, coaxing the wild curls into something a little tamer. It was pointless, he knew that from a lifetime’s experience, but occasionally he felt the need to attempt it.

One hour and seventeen minutes.

He straightened up his bedroom. Put the clothes that were on the floor into the hamper, the ones that were clean in the laundry basket away where they belonged, emptied the trash can, made the bed. Then he reconsidered and unmade it again, pulling the covers down neatly. Scout came into the room and looked at him. “I know, I’m crazy,” he told her, and apparently she agreed because she went over and lay down next to the vent along the wall.

Fifty nine minutes.

Time dragged, then raced, then dragged again. He dropped his hand to an erection that had followed the same pattern, sometimes rigid to the point where the chafing of his clothing threatened to trigger his climax, sometimes quiescent, his body unable to sustain that level of excitement for long. It would be easy to bring himself off, knowing by the time Dex arrived, he’d be ready for round two, more than ready, but he didn’t. Sure, he might come before his cock got near Dex’s ass, but he’d do it with Dex there, sharing the moment.

And he was being selfish again. This wasn’t all about him. What was Dex longing for? What fantasies marched through his head, their insistent beat demanding, enticing?

God, he wanted to make them all come true.

The knock at the door had him jumping as startling as a firework going off beside him. Tank and Scout barked, wild and high, picking up on his mood. He called out a reassurance and they settled again, a minor miracle.

Dex. Wearing what he’d worn at the gym, already reaching for him, wordless, needy, walking them into the house, slamming Peter against the wall and kissing him with a mouth that promised and delivered at the same time.

“Longest two hours of my life,” Dex muttered against his lips.

“Tell me about it.” Peter tugged at the back of Dex’s shirt ineffectively, frustrated. “Take this off.”

“Door’s still open,” Dex said.

“Shut it, then. Or not.” He didn't care, not when he was so desperate to feel Dex’s naked body against his. “Bedroom.”

Dex kissed him savagely, both hands on Peter’s face. “Right behind you.”

Together they stumbled to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went. When they fell down onto the bed Peter was down to his boxers and Dex was, thank God, totally bare. Peter got a hand around Dex’s cock and stroked it; Dex groaned and pushed himself up onto his hands, looming over Peter in the dim light from the bedside lamp.

“You gonna let me fuck you one of these nights?” Dex asked, voice hoarse with arousal.

Peter would have said yes to anything. He wriggled out of his shorts, finally bare against Dex’s nakedness. “Sure.”

“Because I want it so bad. Your ass with my cock in it would be a dream come true. Jesus, you’d be so tight, so fucking hot.”

Time to be unselfish? Why not. It wasn’t as if he hated bottoming; more that he preferred topping. Like being offered chocolate cake thick with frosting or a fruit salad laden with juicy, tangy chunks of pineapple. Both tempting desserts, but he’d choose cake every time.

Maybe it was the night to eat healthy.

“Do it. Fuck me.”

“Huh? You wanted my ass, remember?”

“Always.” Reckless with arousal Peter grabbed Dex’s hips, sliding his hands around to grip that awesomely muscular butt. “But I need you in me. Need to feel it. Need something extra.”

“Gonna ask you again if you’re sure. If you’re not I’ll let you fuck me six ways from Sunday.”

“If I knew what that meant, I’d be tempted, but I don’t so I’m sticking with you doing me. Please, Dex. It’s been a while, but it’s not like I’ve never—”

“Okay. Shut up. Gonna do it.” Dex seemed to have lost the ability to string more than a few words together at a time and Peter was in the same state of incoherence after another long, bruising kiss. Didn’t matter. They knew what they were doing.

They’d had sex a dozen times already, so Dex reached for the supplies without needing to ask where they were. Peter was too turned on to be cautious or worried. “Yeah, do it. Fuck me.” He arched up against Dex’s hand, fucking himself on Dex’s fingers as surely as Dex was the one doing the fucking. It burned. That was okay; he didn’t care. He wanted it to burn more, wanted to feel the desperate knowledge that he was on the verge of splitting open and that Dex’s cock was the cause.

“I told you to shut up.”

He knew why Dex wanted him to stop talking. It was because it was a distraction. After all the times they’d brought each other to orgasm, all the times he’d been the one fucking Dex, it was finally Dex’s turn, and he wanted it to go right. Was worried about hurting Peter, which was freaking hilarious. “Don’t,” he gasped, then realized how that would sound. “Don’t worry. I’m not. Want you inside me.”

Dex shifted, his slick fingers sliding free of Peter’s body and dragging along Peter’s inner thigh instead, leaving cool trails. “Last chance to tell me you’re not sure.”

“I’m _sure_, Jesus, would you fuck me already—”

With one quick motion of his hips, Dex thrust into him, condom-covered cock pressing in, breaching Peter’s body without the slightest hesitation. It should have hurt, but any twinge of pain was nothing compared to the sensation Peter had been so desperately craving. He clutched at Dex’s ass, pulling him deeper. “Yes!”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it good.” Dex muttered the words, but it was his body Peter listened to, the fast breathing, the quiet groans, the shifts of position that had the bed creaking in reply.

The last time he’d been fucked, the man had been some years younger, so desperate to try it that Peter hadn’t had the heart to turn him down. Nerves had made the man’s erection fragile, wilting, reviving, the insertion a fumbling awkwardness, his climax solitary. Peter had bitten back anything that wasn’t reassurance and support, but the man had fled after dressing and Peter had never gotten back in touch with him.

Night and day. Night and fucking day. Dex knew the angles to strike sparks from deep inside Peter’s body, knew when to surge forward, when to hold still. Peter relaxed as much as he was able with his skin on fire, needing a climax to quench it, trusting Dex to take care of him.

Dex wasn’t kissing him anymore, and that was fine. They were already riding a fine line; he was so close to release but somehow Dex seemed to know how to avoid pushing him over the edge. Each time Peter strained toward it, Dex eased off. “God, I’m—”

“I know,” Dex said. “Not yet.”

Another thrust. Peter sobbed, rubbing his cock against Dex’s belly.

“Not _yet_,” Dex repeated. He shifted back onto his knees and pulled Peter with him, lifting the lower half of Peter’s body off the bed and holding him there. It was torture to lose the pressure on his erection, but there was nothing he could do, not with Dex’s impossibly strong hands clamped on his hips and Dex’s cock driving into him, slick and hard. Their bodies rubbed together, created pleasure together. He was shaking, grasping for something to hold onto and finding nothing.

He was unable to participate in the fucking now. Gravity and Dex were in control, and Peter was along for the ride. He squeezed his eyes shut and enjoyed the relentless stroking of Dex’s cock along his prostate. “I—”

“Yeah. Soon.” Dex tilted him and on the next thrust fireworks went off behind Peter’s closed eyelids. He cried out. “You wanted this. Let me give it to you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, want it, want you, please, Dex, please—”

Dex groaned, the sound primal. “God, love hearing you beg for my cock.”

The realization he was doing that, pleading for every solid inch to get rammed inside him over and over twisted Peter’s gut, lust and love driving him to the point where holding back was impossible. If Dex pulled out and left him empty, the memory of that thick shaft stretching his hole, sheathed by his flesh, would’ve been enough. But Dex didn’t withdraw. Holding still, balls deep, he grabbed Peter’s ass and ground it against him. The new sensations overwhelmed him. They were one body, one goal, and they reached it at the same time.

Peter went away for a few moments. He was locked in Dex’s arms, cock lying wet against his belly, retaining its shape, erect, tingling from root to crown, asshole throbbing hotly, but that was his body. The essential spark was somewhere else, floating free, buffeted by a gale of pleasure, hot and strong.

When he could, he sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. “That was… You’re amazing. God, it was perfect.”

“Interesting.”

Keeping his eyes open was an effort. Lassitude shackled him. “What is?”

“You seem to think I’m finished with you.” Dex smiled down at him, eyes gleaming. “Not even close, sweetheart.”

“Oh God—”

Did he want Dex to be serious? Peter wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. In the hour that followed, Dex made good on his promise and by the time they lay beside each other, spent, sated, sweaty, Peter had nothing left to wish for. Dex had given him everything he wanted and more, taken him to deep, peaceful places and dizzying heights. He was lost in love.

No, not lost. Dex was right there.

Chapter Fourteen

“Jeff! How are you?” It was Sunday and Dex had been behind the front desk at the gym going over some details with the newest employee when his cell rang, so he’d stepped away to answer.

“Fine. A little sleep deprived. You?”

It wouldn’t be professional to admit that he was sleep deprived, too, not when the cause was spending the night in Peter’s bed, something he did more often than not recently, if their shifts allowed it. “Great, and things are going great, here, too. Sixteen new members. How’s your dad doing?”

Jeff sighed. “He’s improving, but it’s taking a lot longer than expected. That’s why I’m calling.”

“You know I’m happy to keep an eye on things here as long as you need me to. My regular gig isn’t going anywhere and I promise I’d rather be indoors in the air conditioning than sweating half my weight in water every afternoon under the hot sun.”

“An extra week is one thing,” Jeff said, blunt and to the point. “How do you feel about another month or two? Or four?”

Dex smiled at an elderly woman who spent an hour on the treadmill most mornings came in. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes. My dad’s supposed to move to rehab tomorrow, but they’ve been postponing it for days now so I’ll believe it when I see it. And, well, there’s no easy way to say this: My mom isn’t as with it as he’d been leading me to think. I can’t leave her alone for more than a couple of hours without supervision. Yesterday she almost set the kitchen on fire trying to make soup.”

“I’m sorry. My grandfather went through the same situation with my grandmother. She’d make him coffee and add salt instead of sugar, then wander the streets late at night in a robe looking for a cat that had been gone for years. It’s hell watching someone you love deteriorate.” He shut up after that, figuring he wasn’t offering much, if any, comfort.

“Yeah, that’s about the size of it.” Jeff hesitated, the pause a long one, then blurted out, “If you did this, if you stuck around, we could look into making it permanent.”

Taken aback, but thinking on his feet, Dex replied, "I’m not interested in being a manager. I’d want a say in how the place was run, some authority to make changes.”

“Jesus, what’s wrong with it? It’s a gym, not a goddamn spa.”

As diplomatically as possible, Dex said, “It’s in a good location and the fabric of the building and equipment are sound. It needs some updating, that’s all. There’s a lot of competition out there.”

Another pause. “I’ll tell you what,” Jeff said. “You’ve got five thousand dollars. Spend it on whatever you want as long as you don’t paint the walls pink, and save the receipts. You’ve got three months. Make back what you’ve spent and show a profit and I’ll let you buy in as a partner with a view to taking over if I can’t come back. Fair?”

Everything was moving fast, but Dex had never minded the exhilaration that came from committing to something with no turning back. He’d jumped out of planes and off bridges in the past and the sensation in the pit of his stomach wasn’t unfamiliar. “Sure. And I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“No pink,” Jeff said darkly and hung up.

The first thing he wanted to do was call Peter, who had gone to work early that morning. Couldn’t call his boyfriend at work when he was an emergency vet, though. Never knew what he might be in the middle of, and interrupting something important could end up causing more trouble than it was worth. Not that Peter would feel obligated to answer. Still, calling to leave a voicemail saying, “So, about this temporary job I took… looks like it might be a little less temporary and more permanent,” didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

He’d wait.

Half an hour later, while he was throwing a load of laundry into one of the oversized machines in the back and adding extra fabric softener to manage the towels’ scratchiness when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He hoped it was a message from Peter, but when he looked at the screen he saw a message from a number he didn’t recognize.

_Drinks tonight?_

Huh. _Who’s this_? he replied.

_Sorry! This is Stefan, Peter’s co-worker. He said I should try to touch base with you and find something that works with your schedule. I already know his. ;-)_

Okay, this was weird. Dex spent longer than he should have trying to figure out how to respond, but in the long run he decided there was no way Peter would have given Stefan his cell phone number unless he was on board with the idea. _Sounds good. Peter's off tomorrow night and I'm free after six, any chance that works?_

It didn’t sound good at all, but he wasn’t throwing obstacles in the way of peace. This was Peter’s employee and if he’d decided to give Stefan a second chance, it was his call. Besides that, if Stefan wanted to meet Peter socially, Dex was damned if it would happen without him there as backup if needed. Stefan had lied, vandalized his car to get ammunition in his fight to become a partner, and punched Peter in public. Unstable was the kindest word for him in Dex’s opinion.

Stefan sent back an enthusiastic agreement naming a wine bar Dex knew of but had never been to. Wine wasn’t his drink of choice, and Zeus had a reputation for being pretentious and over-priced. Drink of the gods, his ass. Wine was fermented grape juice and whatever nectar was, he doubted it was served there, by the glass or the bottle.

The next day was spent in a haze of figuring out how many improvements he could make for five grand and then which were likely to create the biggest return. He went undercover to two local gyms—both of which offered free twenty-four-hour passes to prospective new members—to see how they did things. He ordered new towels and investigated what it would cost to add a juice bar (conclusion: more than he could afford.) He wrote an ad to hire for a new position, Pilates instructor, and was shocked at how quickly resumes appeared in his inbox.

_God, sorry_, he texted Peter the following afternoon. _Life running away with me. Pick you up at five-thirty?_

_Okay_, Peter replied. _Um, not to sound ungrateful, but did we have plans?_

_Zeus at six? Stefan said he’d tell you._

_Wait, WHAT?_

Shit. Feeling guilty, Dex abandoned the idea of texting and called Peter’s phone instead.

“What’s going on?” Peter said, answering.

“We’re having drinks with Stefan at six? I thought you knew.”

“Because Stefan said he’d tell me, apparently. Which he didn’t. I had no idea any of this was going on.”

Dex tried to remember how it had all gone down, but it felt like something that had happened a week ago, not yesterday. “He texted me to set it up. I assumed you were on board if you gave him my number, so…”

“You know what they say about assuming.” Peter sighed.

“Yeah, but in this case, isn’t it Stefan who’s gonna be left holding the label marked ‘ass’? When he gets there and we’re nowhere to be seen? Or if we do decide to show, we can tell him we know what he did.”

He couldn’t see Peter’s forehead crease in a frown, but he guessed it had. How deep had he fallen for the guy that he could picture Peter as clearly as if the man stood beside him, from the freckles dappling his skin here and there to the errant spring of a curl of that copper-bright hair?

“We have to go. I need to know what he’s doing and you’re a witness in case I need one. Plus, I’m relying on you to stop me from doing anything stupid.”

“If he takes a swing at you again, I won’t let it land. Can’t promise the same for my fist and his face.”

“No punching,” Peter said, but Dex heard the warmth behind the words. Peter was independent, but he sure got off on Dex’s protective side, in small doses at least.

“We’ll see. Five-thirty, okay?”

“Okay.”

He arranged three interviews with potential Pilates instructors for the next day, ordered a new recumbent stationary bike—they had three but there was always somebody waiting to use one, and it could replace the oldest treadmill since all it had been doing lately was collecting dust—and ate a hasty lunch from the Chinese place next door, not allowing himself anything but vegetables and chicken. An hour considering the best way to revamp the locker situation by researching what other gyms did and he was out of time.

“I’m off for the night,” he told Violet, who’d been managing the evening shifts on the days Jeff didn’t for more than a year. She was capable and no-nonsense, trustworthy. Definitely one to convince to stay on through whatever changes were made. “Text me if you need anything, though.”

“No offense, but I won’t.” She was cheerful, her straight brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and no makeup except for what he suspected was clear lip gloss. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

He greeted Peter with a kiss in the driveway, but Peter returned it with an abstracted air, showing no signs of wanting more. Fair enough. They didn’t have time for sex and in Dex’s experience, one kiss was more than enough to get them on the same page as far as that went.

He settled for looking Peter over with appreciation. “All dressed up,” he commented. Peter wore black pants, the crease in them sharp, the fabric miraculously free of pet hair, and a deep green shirt that made his hair blaze.

“It’s a fancy place, if the photos on Yelp are any indication.” Peter pulled a face. “Too fancy for my taste, but it wasn’t worth arguing about. And you’re my guest tonight, so if that’s a problem can we argue about it now and not in front of him?”

The reluctance to use Stefan’s name raised warning flags, but Dex shrugged. “I’m driving, so my share of the bill won’t come to much. Sure, if it’s the way you want to play it.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Being arm candy?”

Peter snorted. “You’re gorgeous and you know it, but I doubt that’s how he’ll see you.”

“Stefan can bite me.” Dex walked around to the passenger side and held open the door for Peter with a flourish. “Or no, he can’t. That privilege is reserved for you.”

Peter turned before climbing into the Jeep and pressed his mouth against Dex’s, nipping at his lip. And there was the heat. “I’ll use it later. Use my teeth on every inch of you.”

Dex growled at him, a low rumble Tank would’ve answered with a whine of submission. Peter winked.

He’d been in his fair share of fancy restaurants over the years, mostly on dates with men keen to impress him with an expensive meal, but the last time he’d been to a wine bar it had been a different animal. Zeus was all gleaming wood and shining brass, mauve napkins and half a dozen wine glasses in front of each patron. Definitely not his scene.

“No sign of Stefan,” Peter murmured as they paused in front of the hostess’ booth.

“Is he the kind of guy who’d think being fashionably late was a thing?”

“Probably. He’s punctual when it comes to work, but it isn’t like I’ve spent any time with him socially.” Peter smiled at the young woman who came to greet them. “Hi. We’re meeting some friends.”

“That’s fine; I’ll be happy to seat you now. Table for four?” She led them one of the tall tables near the window and gave them menus. “Juliana will be over in a minute to answer any questions you might have.”

Dex settled himself on the wooden stool more designed for looks than comfort. “It’s like she knows we’ve never been here before.”

Looking around, Peter nodded. “The place isn’t that big. Maybe there are a lot of regulars.”

“I’ve always figured wine was a thing you were either into or you weren’t.”

“I know. It’s not high on my list either. The menu’s interesting, though.”

It was. Not only was there a collection of tapas offerings, but there were a number of cheese and cured meat options too, from smoked sausages to something called ‘drunken goat.’ Dex would have an easy time creating a meal out of what was on offer, even if the wine list was a mystery to him. He was staying far away from the squid ink fideos, though. Calamari made him shudder; tentacles weren’t food in his book.

They sat, sipping water and chatting, for ten minutes before Stefan arrived, looking harassed, to Dex’s eyes at least. Striding beside him was a petite woman with long brown hair falling in a shiny ripple, wearing a tunic in a copper shade that matched Peter’s hair over narrow pants in cocoa linen. She looked elegant, but there was a steely strength to her and Dex, measuring her with a professional appraisal, decided she’d look good in his gym working out.

“Sorry we’re late,” Stefan said. “Dyan, this is my colleague, Peter Holland, and his partner Dex… I don’t think I know your last name.”

“Connors,” Dex said, shaking Dyan’s small hand.

“Dyan Nikolas,” she said.

Peter and Dex exchanged glances; her surname was well known in the area, her family wealthy beyond belief. The library was even named for the man whose will had dedicated a tiny part of his fortune to funding its services.

“It’s my fault we’re late. I changed outfits. Three times.” Dyan grinned at them, inviting mockery. “Drove him crazy, but if I don’t like what I’m in, I don’t feel comfortable, and if I don’t feel comfortable, I don’t enjoy the evening.”

Which eroded Dex’s initial favorable impression. If she was prepared to irritate her boyfriend and keep two men waiting for a relatively trivial reason, it was clear she considered herself the most important person at the table.

The next fifteen minutes didn’t do anything to improve his opinion of her. She insisted that her first wine glass had a lipstick print on it—Dex couldn’t see it—and inspected the replacement with a scrutiny normally reserved for more important matters. When they ordered food she asked a dozen questions about which of the tapas were vegetarian, including detailed quizzing about the ingredients of each one.

Peter ordered something with goat cheese and mushrooms and a green salad with tomato and avocado, without mentioning that he didn’t eat meat. When Dex asked for hanger steak and chorizo, Dyan sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.

“Is that necessary?” she asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. If you don’t want to come to a restaurant that serves meat, don’t suggest it,” Dex said.

“I didn’t. It was Stefan’s idea.” Dyan gave him a look and Stefan, jaw set, ordered a combination of meat and vegetable dishes, refusing to meet her hostile frown. Dex suspected if he and Peter hadn’t been there, Stefan would have gone along with what she wanted.

Sympathy for Stefan was the last emotion he’d expected to feel.

When Dyan left to freshen up—her term—Stefan glanced at them. “You’re wondering what I see in her.”

Peter made a polite sound, half hum, half grunt. Dex was less tactful. “Yeah. Unless you get off on having your balls busted in which case she’s perfect for you.”

Stefan closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, they were lit with amusement. “If she heard you saying that… Yeah, she can be difficult, but we share a lot of common interests; breeding pedigree dogs for one, and she’s well-connected which matters to me. I want to be successful and she’s ideal. She’s not usually this troublesome. I think you make her nervous. Not because you’re gay!”

“Never thought it was. And it’s your choice who you date.” Dex didn’t give a fuck, but he figured he could show a smidge of diplomacy under the circumstances.

“If you’re more interested in breeding dogs, why are you so fixated on becoming a partner in an emergency practice?” Peter asked, changing the subject, though not to one less contentious given Stefan’s actions. “Why not focus on working with Dyan in that area?”

“Why do you think I’m not? We have a plan for the future, but we’re practical. The reality is, I’m a veterinarian and she’s a lawyer; that isn’t going to change. We need to concentrate our free time on creating a life that matters to us.”

Did Stefan realize he was implying his chosen career was a means to an end? One glance at Peter’s face made it clear Dex wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. “And that’s breeding purebreds?”

“Among other things.” Stefan sipped his wine in a pretentious way that made Dex wince inwardly. How was it even possible for the man to be so annoying? “Peter, I want you to know that I’m committed to the practice. It’s part of the long term picture for me. Not for it to continue to exist, but for it to flourish, become even more successful. We might not agree a hundred percent on what that looks like, but you have to admit that that’s what you want too. A good reputation in the animal care community _and_ a thriving business?”

Peter hesitated before answering, but it was a trick question. How else was he supposed to respond but to agree? “Of course.”

“There, you see? We’re on the same side. There’s no reason for us to feel at odds with each other.” Sitting back in his seat, triumphant, Stefan smiled widely at Dyan as she returned to the table.

She smiled back and dropped a cool kiss on the top of his head. “What did I miss? Were you talking about me?”

“Yeah,” Dex said, for no other reason than to see the sheer panic in Stefan’s eyes. “Stef here—”

“Stefan. Please.”

Somehow, Dex suspected the please was a plea for silence, not a request to use Stefan’s full name.

“Was telling us how you enjoy breeding dogs. Let me show you a picture of mine. Never have figured out what he is, but if you’re an expert…”

She glanced at his phone when he held it out. The photo was one of Tank on a walk, sitting in a patch of sunlight by a log covered with moss, gazing up at Dex with adoration since along with his phone, Dex held a much-chewed stick. It was as photogenic as Tank got, and Dex had gotten it printed and framed.

Dyan didn’t mess around dismissing Tank with two curt words. “Pure mongrel.”

Retorting, “Takes one to know one” would’ve been rude, but Dex sure thought it and hoped his expression showed it.

“He’s a nice dog, though,” Stefan said. No way to tell if he was trying to keep the conversation friendly or if he wanted to earn kudos from Peter for defending Tank.

“Society would be so much better off, though, if mixed breeds weren’t allowed. I know it isn’t a realistic world to hope for, not with things the way they are currently.” Dyan seemed earnest enough about her viewpoint.

“Why would we be better off?” Peter asked. “I mean, for one thing, mixed breeds tend to be a lot healthier than purebreds.”

“As a veterinarian, I hardly think you’d want to eliminate the need for your services,” Dyan pointed out. She barely glanced up at their server as their food was delivered, as if the young woman were nothing more than part of the scenery.

“Eliminate, no, but I wouldn’t mind seeing fewer things like joint disorders and neurological diseases. Things that are hard to treat with much success.” Peter smiled up at the blonde as she set his plates down in front of him. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t have done a better job of being Dyan’s opposite if he’d been trying. It made Dex want to drag his chair closer and kiss him.

“And here’s the hanger steak and the chorizo,” Juliana said, leaning in nearer to Dex so he could read her name tag, or maybe in the hopes he’d eye her breasts. What the fuck did he know about women? “Can I get you anything else?”

He was tempted to ask for a nice, messy bottle of ketchup. If he did, she’d probably reel off a list of varieties, then bring it out in a small bowl with a tiny spoon.

“Nope. Looks great.”

Juliana gave them a bright smile. “Then I’ll leave you to your meal. Enjoy!”

The conversation became general and Dyan mellowed enough to praise her food and compliment Dex on his sky-diving experiences when the subject of extreme sports came up.

“I love a man willing to take risks. To gamble.”

“Gambling with a broken neck is foolhardy,” Stefan said, contradicting her for the first time. “I enjoy a spice of danger, but that’s a—that’s a ghost pepper.”

Peter laughed. “I’m with you on that. Dyan, you and Dex can jump out of planes to your heart’s content, but Stefan and I will stay on the ground where it’s safe.”

“Unless we land on you,” Dex said, taking a risk by leaning in and giving Peter the kiss he’d held onto for a while, waiting for the perfect moment to deliver it.

“You two are adorable,” Dyan said without much conviction. “Such a well-matched couple.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Well, it’s been a great night, but I think Dex and I should make a move. The dogs need to be fed and let out.” Peter caught Juliana’s eye. “Could we get the bill, please?”

“Two checks?” she asked.

“Oh, one,” Stefan said quickly. “Please don’t argue. You’re our guests. But don’t rush off yet, Peter. There’s something I was hoping we could talk about.”

“If it’s the partnership again—”

“It is, because it’s important to me. I know things between us have been strained, but I want you to hear me when I say I’ll do whatever it takes to smooth things over.”

Dex wanted badly to interject, to point out that things hadn’t been ‘strained,’ that Stefan had physically assaulted Peter and should consider himself lucky that Peter was willing to listen to a word he said. He held his tongue. Peter didn’t need anyone to protect him, not in this situation. Well, not unless Stefan decided to get aggressive again, and that seemed unlikely for more than one reason.

“It’s not up to me,” Peter said. “I think we’ll have to sit down with Fer and hash it out.”

“She’s already told me you’re the road block. If you say yes, the only thing left to agree on is the financial side of things, and trust me when I say that won’t be a problem.”

Dyan was listening to the conversation quietly and with more interest than Dex had seen out of her so far. What was going on in her head? Did she want this for Stefan?

“What if I say no?” Peter grimaced and drank the rest of his wine. “In the long run, what would you do? Move to a different practice?”

Stefan shook his head decisively. “Not an option.”

“Why?” Dex didn’t mean to interrupt, but he was genuinely curious. “There are half a dozen vets in this area. Or you could start your own practice.” He slanted a glance Dyan’s way. “Specializing in pedigree cats and dogs, no mongrels allowed. Cater to the rich set.”

“That’s not feasible,” Dyan said briskly, leaving Dex confused. The second part had been a joke, but the first wasn’t. Why was it so out of the question? From Peter’s frown, he was also in the dark. “How’s this for an alternative? We buy you out. I enjoy being a lawyer, but it’s stressful and I don’t need the money. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m a trust fund baby, but I don’t want to be idle. My family wanted me to do something worthwhile and I obliged them. Now I’m of an age where I want to please myself.” She took Stefan’s hand. “We could buy you and Fer out and I could work with Stefan, not as a vet, of course, but the details would only bore you.”

“Well?” Stefan asked. “What about it? You and Fer would walk away with plenty of money to fund her retirement and your new practice. It’s the perfect solution.”

“For you maybe.” Peter stood so quickly his chair wobbled, on the verge of falling over. Dex steadied it as he rose, following Peter’s lead. “And it’s always all about you, isn’t it? You push and shove and deceive—”

“That’s hardly fair,” Stefan protested.

“Isn’t it? Look at the way you set up this meeting. You told Dex a lie and trapped me into a meal I didn’t want. And I _will_ pay for our share. I won’t be beholden to you in any way large or small.” Hands shaking, Peter pulled out a handful of bills and put them on the table.

Even in that moment, Dex noted that Peter didn’t throw down money the waitress would have to pick up, showing her respect and consideration. _Love you. Love you so fucking much._

And when they left this place, he’d show Peter so in deed, not thought.

“It’s not like that!” Stefan stood to protest.

“Yes, it is,” Peter said, making an obvious effort to keep his voice lowered.

“I wanted you to give me a chance. You've never liked me and there's no real reason for it. It's not fair!” For all his advantages, Stefan sounded like a five-year-old on the verge of a temper tantrum.

Peter didn't move, though Dex knew he had to be desperate to get out of there. “Look, sometimes people aren't meant to be friends. It doesn't have to be a big deal. You have money. Find another practice and buy them out.”

“But—” Dyan started.

Stefan cut her off with a sharp glance and a hand gesture. “I've spent all this time building up a relationship with the staff and clients here. I don't want to walk away from that.”

“Then accept that you'll never be a partner,” Peter told him, finally turning away to leave.

Dex followed, hearing Stefan’s voice call after them, “It's not up to you!”

“God, he's a nightmare,” Peter said as they crossed from the restaurant into the enclosed lobby. “I'm so sorry you had to be part of that.”

“I’m not. Seeing you in action was like…” Dex sought for words, then settled for simple ones. “You check all the boxes. And did I mention I love you?”

Peter blushed. “You’re making me—”

“Blush. I know. I can see it.”

They emerged into an early summer night, the sky streaked with sunset colors, the air balmy. Dex drew in a deep breath, ignoring the exhaust fumes from the passing cars and concentrating on the faint perfume from a nearby planter filled with flowers, their colors muted. He missed the yard at Luis’s house. Where he was now had no green around it. If he took Jeff up on his offer, he’d move out when his finances—Shit.

He stopped dead and Peter grabbed his arm. “What is it?”

“I forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“I talked to Jeff and he still doesn’t know when he’s going to come back. Wants me to keep on running things for now, and… maybe in the long term. He’s letting me spend some money on improvements. It’s a test. If memberships are up, more money coming in—if he can see I’m doing a good job—he’ll let me buy into the business.”

“That’s fantastic!” Peter’s eyes were dancing with delight. “It makes me feel worse for taking Stefan’s dream away from him, but—no, I’m kidding! I’m so happy for you.”

“If everything works out, I won’t stay where I am in that apartment, though. We’ll rent it, maybe offer it to an employee who’s willing to either open or close on a regular basis. Give them reduced rent. It’ll be a perk.” He was thinking out loud as they walked to his Jeep, but made himself shift gears back to Peter’s problem, which was more immediate. “What are you going to do?”

“About Stefan? I guess hoping he’ll disappear is unreasonable?” Peter sighed. “Talk to Fer, I guess.”

“She’s on your side,” Dex said, even though he wasn’t sure it was true.

“Maybe. But she wants out. She went through all this trying to get to a place where Stefan could buy her out and she could retire without having to worry about the practice. She wanted to know she could walk away and everything would be fine.”

Dex slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him in close, kissing his temple. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah.”

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did make partner?” Dex held up his hands when Peter swung around to glare at him, breaking free of the hug. “I mean, he’s still there, still doing his robot vet impression, so would it make much difference? Devil’s advocate and all that.”

Speaking tersely, Peter said, “It gives him power and a say in how the place is. It gives him what he wants, and I don’t want to give him what he wants. Not after what he’s put me through.”

“Understandable.” Dex rubbed the back of his neck. “Did it seem to you there was something going on? Like it was a quiz and they’d snuck a look at the answers?”

Peter’s glare melted into confusion. “I don’t think so.”

“I do.” They arrived at the Jeep, but Dex stayed beside it, tossing his keys in the air and catching them, thinking it over. “He wants in. At your practice, no one else’s. And his lawyer girlfriend’s as focused on it as he is. There’s a piece missing to the puzzle, and yeah, you’re right, don’t give in until you know what it is.”

“I’m not giving in at all. End of story.”

Dex smiled, tilting his head to one side as he gazed at his boyfriend with what were probably love-struck eyes. “God, you’re hot like this. Let’s go home. Your place or mine?”

Peter snorted. “There’re never any pieces missing when it comes to figuring out what you want.”

“Nope.” Dex cocked his head. “Sound good? I’m flexible. We can take a long walk instead, or do a crossword or braid each other’s hair—”

Peter popped him on the ass, hard enough to wake up every part of Dex, bringing him eager in a heartbeat. “You don’t have any hair. Your place. Now open the damn door.”

He knew it’d get his ass smacked again, but it was worth it. “Sir, yes, sir.”

They drove back to Dex’s place and he parked around back so no one at the gym would see them sneaking upstairs. Stupid, since he was off tonight and everyone knew he and Peter were dating. It wasn’t like anyone would have a problem with them being in the apartment together. The way Peter groped him when he was unlocking the door, well, that might be a different story, but he was turned on enough he didn’t care.

“Where’s Tank tonight?” Peter asked, biting the sensitive spot under his ear as they paused halfway up the stairs.

“With Luis. When can he get that damned—Jesus, fuck, yeah, don’t stop—” Dex shut his eyes. “Gonna leave marks on me?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone to think you were up for grabs.” Peter directed the angle of Dex’s head with a hand on his chin and bit a spot near the first, making Dex shiver.

“I’m not. Don’t want to be.”

“Good. Because I’m feeling all kinds of territorial over you.”

“Side effect of being around animals a lot?” God, it was difficult to get words out when his body was in meltdown.

“Side effect of having the hottest guy in town say he loves me.”

“Good side—oh yeah. There. Right fucking there.”

They were inside, heading for the bed, with Dex willing to settle for the couch, the floor, or the nearest wall, when his phone rang. Peter drew back, but Dex shook his head. “It can wait. Need you.”

“It’s a call, not a text. What if it’s important?”

“What if it’s someone halfway around the world wanting to sell me something?”

“It’s not stopping.”

“Shit. Shit, shit—” Dex cut off the cursing and fumbled for his phone. Luis. Okay, maybe he should’ve checked first. “Hey, what’s up?”

Luis didn’t sound panicked, but stressed. “Tank ate a corn cob. A whole fucking corn cob. He’s lying here looking like crap and panting hard. Could Peter come check him out? If that’s stepping over a line, I’ll take him to the vet’s. Not being a freeloader, but I don’t want to move him in this state unless I have to.”

Arousal ebbing, Dex rolled his eyes. Luis knew damn well what Tank was like around leftovers. “He’s here, I’ll ask him.” Not bothering to try to cover the mouthpiece—he didn’t know where the hell it was on a cell phone anyway—he met Peter’s eyes. “Tank ate a corn cob. Luis wants to know what to do next.”

“Let me talk to him.” Peter didn’t hesitate to act when action was required, and Dex handed over the phone without question. “Can he breathe okay? Good. Is he drooling? Okay, that’s good, too. How does he seem otherwise? Is he acting—oh. No, I think I’d better come over and have a look at him. Yeah. He’s probably fine, but better safe than sorry. I hate to risk undoing all the healing he’s done since his surgery. Okay, see you in fifteen minutes.”

Dex took the phone back. “No sex, I take it?” He was disappointed and worried about Tank at the same time, and it came out sounding more irritated than he meant it.

“Rain check,” Peter said, and kissed him. “You know you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it anyway, not with a chance that Tank was developing an intestinal blockage.”

“Tell me again why we got a dog?”

Peter smiled and herded him toward the door. “Where’d your keys go? And you know you didn’t so much ‘get a dog’ as end up with one, and you love him, so stop complaining and drive me to Luis’s house.”

The drive over was a silent one. Dex’s thoughts were occupied with Tank and he guessed Peter was mulling the scene with Stefan. Sex would’ve been a distraction from, not a cure for, that particular problem.

“Corn cobs aren’t gonna poison him at least,” he offered as a way to break the quiet.

“Hmm? Oh. No. And he’s a big dog, so he should be okay, but it’s not something they should eat whole and that’s what most dogs do. They swallow and get it down, then it lodges or gives them grief when it comes out the other end.”

“Ouch.” Dex’s asshole clenched in sympathy. “God, why didn’t they keep an eye on him? And if he got it off the counter, that means he jumped, and he’s not supposed to do that either.”

“More likely he scavenged it from the garbage, but you know yourself how fast they can be and how sneaky.”

“Yeah.” Dex sighed, letting go of some of his annoyance. “My mom used to say she worried most when I wasn’t making noise, not when I was. She was right.”

“I’d love to meet your family sometime and have you meet mine.”

That was a step further than Dex had gone with anyone before and it left him panicking but happy at the same time, an unsettling mix of emotions that made his gut churn as badly as Tank’s probably was.

Elliot opened the front door while they were still in the driveway, reaching down to grab Bailey’s collar to keep her from running to greet them. “It’s okay! He’s fine.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dex asked.

Luis and Tank came out onto the porch, too, Tank with his leash clipped to his collar. Seeing him, eyes bright, ears back, tail wagging, made Dex feel better, and seeing that Luis had him on the leash went a long way toward relieving his irritation. “He puked it back up about a minute ago.”

“The whole thing?” Peter sounded impressed. “Must have done a number on his throat.”

“He would have eaten it a second time if I hadn’t stopped him,” Elliot said. “We would have called and told you not to come, but it was already too late.”

“I might as well have a look at him, since we’re here.” Peter tucked his thumb into the back pocket of his jeans and tilted his head to one side. “If you want me to, I mean.”

“That’d be great,” Luis said.

They all went inside, with Dex fighting the urge to leave. Weird to walk into what had been his home as a guest. The need to check on Tank over-rode his reluctance, but seeing Elliot's coat hanging up and his shoes left by the door didn't help.

Dex held Tank still while Peter used a borrowed flashlight to peer into his mouth. “You’re sure he threw up the whole thing.”

“I’m sure. I’d have saved it if it had occurred to me you’d want to examine it, but trust me, it was pretty gross.” Elliot had made Bailey lie down on the couch so she was out of the way. Dex realized she was lying on a blanket he recognized from Elliot’s living room. So fucking weird. Worlds colliding.

Talking quietly to Tank, Peter opened the dog’s jaws, tilting Tank’s head to the light in an echo of his gesture a moment before. “No bleeding, but some redness. Keep him on soft food for a day or two and make sure he has plenty of water. Other than that, there’s not a lot you can do.”

“Thank you,” Luis said fervently. “And listen, I know you’re family now, but if you want us to pay for this—”

“Family?” Peter released Tank, tousling his head affectionately. “Is that what I am? And no. If you’d brought him in, yes, because it’s not fair to my partner if I treat friends’ pets for free, but this is on the house. I bill myself for my pets when they need something, though I get the meds at cost.”

“You’re so conscientious.” The admiring tone in Elliot’s voice grated a little, but Dex kept it from showing. Damn, he wished that threesome had never happened. It had been his doing, and he’d enjoyed it at the time, but...yeah.

“I don’t see myself applying for a halo any time soon.” Peter straightened, arching his back as if his muscles were stiff. From work or working out? Maybe they could recapture the mood with a massage later. Dex gave the best back rubs, or so he’d been told. He loved hearing contented sighs and orgasmic moans as taut muscles relaxed. “Is it okay if I wash my hands? Slobber’s an occupational hazard, but I’ve never gotten used to it.”

“Like we’d say no.” Luis snorted and patted his leg. Tank sprang to his side and followed him toward the kitchen. “Gonna let him out. Bailey, out?” She scrambled to the floor and darted past them so quickly she was a blur.

With Peter headed for the bathroom, that left Elliot and Dex alone in the living room, not looking at each other.

“How’s it going?” Elliot asked after a moment’s silence.

“Okay. You?”

“Okay.” Elliot looked over at the couch where Bailey had been lying as if he hoped she’d still be there, a potential topic of conversation. “Anything new?”

They’d hadn’t been talking much, though it was due to Dex being so busy, not because he was harboring any lingering anger. “I’m working at the gym, but you knew that.”

“Uh-huh. And things with Peter? They’re good?”

“They’re great.” So great it was hard to remember why he’d been so upset to find out Elliot and Luis had been hooking up behind his back. Hard, but not impossible.

“I’m glad.”

Peter returned to the living room, wiping his hands dry on his jeans, expression thoughtful.

“What’s up?” Dex asked him.

He shrugged. “Thinking about work again.” To Elliot, he added, “Long story short, I’ve got a co-worker who wants to become a partner and he’s making my life complicated.”

“That sucks,” Elliot said sympathetically. “There’s always one, right? At my place, there’s this woman who labels everything she puts in the fridge, which, okay, fair, but she also does it to her stapler, her scissors, even her freaking pencils and pens. They’re provided by the city! If someone walks off with—Never mind. I’m ranting.”

“You do it with such passion.” Grinning, Luis kissed him, the action too natural for Dex to interpret it as directed at him.

Elliot grinned back. “I love my job. What can I say?” He turned back to Peter. “Tell me more about this guy. Unless you two are in a hurry?”

Later, Dex would wonder how things would’ve turned out if he’d insisted on them leaving, but as it was he accepted this was an opportunity to make sure the mended fences were in good shape. Luis got beers and emptied a bag of tortilla chips into a bowl, and soon after the four of them were chatting. It was like the old days with Luis and Shannon, but the subtle differences made it less a walk down memory lane and more new territory to explore.

Elliot and Peter’s conversation became between them since Luis and Dex knew some of the details already. Dex engaged Luis in gossip about a couple in town who’d decided to split up six months after a lavish, extravagant wedding, the bride’s dress costing a rumored forty thousand dollars. The local paper had pretty much devoted an issue to the nuptials, but they weren’t saying much about the split. From there, the discussion turned to sports, and it was getting nicely heated in a friendly way when Peter said, “Say that again,” his voice high with shock.

Biting his lip, suddenly aware of everyone’s eyes on him, Elliot said, “Which part?”

“All of it. I mean, the last minute or so.” Peter was intense, all his focus on Elliot, and Dex had to squelch rising jealousy.

“Okay. Hang on.” Elliot looked down at his hands, concentrating. “We were having a casual conversation, you know? I wasn’t ready to—okay. Anyway. I only noticed because there’s a magnet from your office on the fridge. I see it all the time. The address, and it got stuck in my head, so when the paperwork came through for the sale of the property next to yours, I knew right away I remembered it from somewhere. I had to go looking to figure out where.” He glanced at Dex and Luis. “And that’s where you came in.”

Dex knew he was missing something obvious because so far this didn’t make a lot of sense to him. “Okay, so there’s some property for sale and it’s beside the land where Peter’s office is? And?”

“I thought his boss must be the one who’d been calling about it—maybe he wanted to expand the practice, start offering boarding as an additional service, that kind of thing. Because the extra paperwork was all about applying to have animals on the property. It made sense.”

“Except my boss isn’t a he,” Peter said.

“And she’s not your boss, she’s your partner.” For some reason it seemed important for Dex to clarify that. “I don’t need more than one guess, do I?”

“Neither do I. I know you maybe can’t tell me, but if I say his name out loud and you nod, that wouldn’t be enough to get you in trouble, would it?” Peter was frowning. “Stefan, right?”

Elliot moved his head the barest amount needed, then rolled his eyes. “Hell with it. Yeah, that’s him.”

“The final piece of the puzzle,” Dex said, fury filling him. Everything Peter had gone through was about money? “Makes sense now. Why another practice wasn’t on the cards, why he wanted not only to buy Fer out, but you too. He’s done nothing wrong legally, I suppose, his girlfriend would’ve made sure of that, but ethically, he’s in a grey area.” He exhaled, fighting for calm. “He’s a sneaky little shit.”

“Yeah,” Peter said grimly. “And when Fer finds out, she’ll close him down. She’d see it as disloyalty and she’d be right. It’s all about him, always. He used us. He probably knew that piece of property would be for sale before he even started working with us; Dyan’s family is connected to all the movers and shakers in town. It’s like insider trading, but with property not shares.”

“Good,” Dex said, then clarified, “Solves all your problems if she won’t sell to him.”

“Because he’s going to sigh and move on? After all he’s already put into trying to make this happen, it’s hard to believe he’ll let it go so easily.”

Luis cracked his knuckles. “We’ll have a talk with him, then.”

Rolling his eyes again, Elliot snorted. “Please. One, you might like to act all tough, but we all know—well, Dex and I do—that there’s no way you’d hurt a fly. You were practically crying after Tank ate that corn cob. And two, even if all you did was threaten the guy, he’s the kind who’d call the police if he suspected someone scratched his car in a parking lot.”

“Um, funny you should say that,” Peter said, laughing. God, he had a good laugh, not a bit self-conscious.

Elliot looked amused but puzzled. “What?”

Dex tuned out the explanations, thinking hard. He wished he could lend Peter the money to buy Fer out and make it simple. With full control, Peter could fire Stefan… but that wouldn’t stop Stefan from buying the property next door.

“This place he’s interested in,” he asked, interrupting the conversation, “is it big enough for what he wants to do with the breeding or does he need the vet’s office too for what he’s got planned?”

Elliot rubbed his lower lip before answering. “I don’t know much about dog breeding, but I doubt it. I think he’d need both properties.”

Peter nodded. “Stefan’s all for splashy. He’d want to offer high end clients the full package. Buy your pedigree dog from me and bring it back to the same place for treatment, training, upkeep. And for that, he needs the vet’s office.” He shrugged. “It’s like the gym. You’ve got the structure and the equipment, so it’s easy to upgrade it. If he can take over the office, he’s got a large part of the expensive stuff covered because it’s a building that’s already set up to meet his needs.”

“But it wouldn’t be providing emergency services anymore and there aren’t many places nearby that do that,” Luis pointed out. “Other vets, yes, but with regular hours. If Tank had eaten that corn cob at midnight and needed attention, I could take him to you or one other place that’s twenty-five miles south of here. If the community lost your practice—”

“You won’t.” Face set in stern lines, Peter shook his head slowly. “No. He’s not doing this to me, to Fer, to everyone who relies on us. No.”

“When can you get together with her and talk about this?”

Peter’s expression was determined, but thoughtful. “Maybe now. She’s working, but I can hang out until things are quiet. What do you think?”

“Better sooner than later, that’s what I think.” Dex pushed back his chair and stood. “Come on. I’ll drive.”

Chapter Fifteen

Peter paused at the gate that led to the backyard on their way out. Tank and Bailey were there, tails wagging, so he reached his hand through the gap and tried to pat them. There wasn’t enough room for him to maneuver and he had to settle for letting them lick his fingers.

“You okay?” Dex asked quietly. “We don’t have to do this now, if it’s—”

“No, I want to. Well, I don’t want to, but it doesn’t make sense to put it off. Who knows what Stefan might decide to try. He could be on his way to talk to her right now, ready to spin a web of lies designed to get me in trouble.” The possibility of seeing Stefan didn’t make him want to get back into Dex’s Jeep. Bailey had gone off and found a tennis ball, which she brought to him and dropped onto the ground, where it rolled under the fence. Peter picked it up and tossed it away. She ran off to retrieve it while Tank supervised, tail wagging. Watching them was comforting.

Animals didn’t have to worry about complicated human situations. They lived in the moment, happy as long as they were fed and loved.

Bailey came back with the ball. This time when she set it on the ground, Tank put his front paws up on the gate, watching Dex instead of Peter.

“I think he’s disappointed in my athleticism,” Peter said, stepping back and gesturing at the ball as it rolled toward his feet.

“I think you give him too much credit,” Dex said.

Tank leaned in and put his mouth over the latch on the gate, gnawing at it the way a puppy gnawed at anything it could find when it was teething. He shifted his head slightly, tried again, and the latch slid up. The gate swung open.

Dex’s mouth gaped as wide as the gate. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah.” Curious, Peter gently urged Tank back into the yard and closed the gate. “Let’s see if he can do it again.”

“Wait.” Dex shook the gate hard. “Yeah, it’s latched.”

With a woof that held impatience, Tank repeated his actions, tag wagging when he achieved success. _Aren’t I clever?_ the wag implied. _Now where’s my treat?_

“Elliot _did_ lock the gate.” Dex groaned. “Shit, I gave him hell and all this time Tank’s been the guilty party.”

“You’re going to need a different latch. Or Luis is.”

“I’m going to need to apologize.” Dex rolled the ball into the yard and slipped inside the gate, fastening it yet again. “I’ll go and talk to them. We can use some rope for tonight. Give me a minute.”

Guessing Dex didn’t want witnesses while he groveled, Peter stayed where he was, leaning against the wall of the house and getting his thoughts in order. Fragments of conversations, cryptic looks, Stefan’s behavior; they all made sense now, slotting into place as easily as knives in a block.

He didn’t want to deal with any of this, but that was the kind of attitude that made people crazy. He’d gotten this far in life by being practical and focusing on the problems he could do something about. When it came right down to it, he knew Fer would be on his side once she heard the details. Worrying about it now would only make things worse.

Dex came back out with a short length of rope, which he used to tie the gate closed even though he’d taken the dogs into the house with him. “Okay, let’s hit the road.”

“If you’d rather stay here, you could drive me home and drop me off, then come back,” Peter suggested. “I know you haven’t been hanging out with Luis much lately, and it seemed like tonight was going pretty well.”

“It was,” Dex agreed. “I’m happy to do that if it’s what you want, but I’d rather go with you, in case Stefan shows up and you need an extra pair of hands.”

“An extra pair of hands for punching?” They climbed into the Jeep and Peter pulled the seatbelt across his chest, clicking it into place. “Now that I’m healed up, I can hold my own, I’ll have you know.”

“Been in a lot of fist fights?” Dex asked, starting up the engine.

“Well, no.” Zero, and as tempted as he’d been to hit Stefan back that day at the supermarket, he’d still prefer to keep it that way.

“Thought not.” The caress Dex gave his leg took any sting from the words.

The office was quiet when they arrived at around ten, but Peter expected it to get busier soon. From experience, people waited until bedtime, then decided a cat that hadn’t eaten for three days couldn’t make it through another night, or a dog throwing up since Tuesday might, might, need a vet by Friday. Peter loved animals, but a small proportion of the owners he met made him wish a test was required before adopting or buying one, some form of training like a learner driver went through.

Fer was in the break room, sipping coffee and leafing through a fashion magazine someone had left behind, a bemused, fascinated look on her face.

“Glossy lips are out,” she announced. “Matte lips are in. This magazine’s from last December, though, so don’t quote me on that.” She tossed the magazine onto the table and studied them. “Well, this looks serious, if you had to bring your new friend.”

“Boyfriend.” It seemed fair to make the situation clear, and partner was too confusing a word given the discussion to come.

“Dex, wasn’t it? Why are you here?”

Fer’s bluntness stemmed partly from tiredness, Peter could tell, though it came naturally to her to zero in on a topic. Her eyes were shadowed, her cheeks pale. She needed to retire, to rest a while. The hours were brutal at times, shifts bleeding into each other, emergencies piling up.

“He’s providing emotional support,” Peter said.

“Oh dear. Forget looking serious, that _sounds_ serious. Don’t beat around the bush, Peter.”

He took a deep breath and threw himself into the story, detailing the encounter they’d had with Stefan and Dyan earlier that evening and what they’d learned from Elliot. “And we wouldn’t have any idea if Dex’s friend hadn’t put two and two together,” he finished.

“You’re the one who did that,” Dex said, loyal as always. “Elliot never would have guessed it added up to four.”

“Only because he doesn’t know Stefan.”

“I’m beginning to think I don’t know Stefan,” Fer said. “Has he admitted to this?”

“To wanting to buy the neighboring property? No, but I haven’t confronted him about it. I found out half an hour ago.”

She sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to start over looking for someone to replace him now. Fourteen months down the drain. I doubt that young woman who was our back up option's been waiting around hoping for a second chance.”

Peter blinked. “He's out? Just like that?”

“What reason could we have for keeping him around? He’s technically competent, but he’s never really been happy here, and now we know why. Let him pursue his dreams.” The half-smile that accompanied her next word was implacable. “Elsewhere.”

“We need to talk to him, to discuss…” Peter said, then trailed off when she shook her head.

“What’s the point? After the incident with his car, I stopped trusting him, but I’m getting old, Peter. I didn’t want the fuss and bother. Well, it’s a lesson to me. Leave a situation to fester and it never heals. Leave him to me. No, don’t argue. Last I looked, I was the senior partner, though not for much longer. I’ll stay until we find a suitable replacement, then I’m off.” Her smile was blissful now. “Don’t know what I’ll do or where I’ll go, but that’s most of the appeal of retirement for me.”

He genuinely didn’t know how to respond, not when he’d been so sure it would be hard to come to an agreement about how to handle the situation. Deep down, he’d known they’d be on the same page in the end, but he hadn’t thought it would be this easy. “We’ll find someone as fast as we can,” he assured her. “Reach out to that woman who needed a loan just in case she’s still available, start working on an ad...”

“I know it will take time. Let’s not rush into anything. Now get out of here before an emergency comes in and I guilt you into staying to help.” Fer got up, patted his shoulder, and went off.

Dex was watching his face. “You look stunned.”

“I feel it. Today’s been one thing after another.”

“It’s late. We should get you home so you can get some sleep. Tomorrow will be even more work than today was, sounds like.” Dex reached out and took his hand, and Peter squeezed his fingers gratefully as they headed toward the lobby.

“I don’t know how I would have gotten through it all without you.”

“Well, if I hadn’t let Stefan trick me into that wine bar fiasco, you wouldn’t have had to go through all of it,” Dex said, pushing the front door open gently with his foot. “Damn, I keep thinking it’s going to cool down, but it’s still hot as hell.”

“I’ll crank the A/C when we get back to my house,” Peter promised. “You don’t have to be back at the gym until morning, right? Stay over?”

Dex stopped, turned, and kissed him. “Happy to. Not sure how much sleep you’ll get if I do, though.” He gazed into Peter’s eyes, hand steady on his hip.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not. Nothing about being with you is bad. You’re new in my life, I get that, but you’ve...completed it. Me. And if I get any mushier, I’ll be a puddle on the ground, so shut me up? Please?”

Easiest way to accomplish that task was to kiss him and Peter did, savoring the taste and feel of Dex’s lips. Everything Dex had said could’ve come out of his mouth and been the truth. New starts for both of them, Dex at the gym, Peter at the emergency vet’s, but they’d take those steps together and somehow he knew they might stumble from time to time, but they’d never fall.

* ~ * The End * ~ *


End file.
